


Synthesis

by soulfulsin



Series: Mammals [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: Webby deals with the fallout of Bad Touch's events and the boys discover their mother has been on the dark side of the moon. They have to grapple with the issues she's given them...as well as the threats that still surround Duckberg.





	1. Your Star

**Author's Note:**

> For those few of you who read Bad Touch, this is for you. This is the sequel and I need to figure out where I’m going with it, but the next few chapters are solid.
> 
> A quick rundown of what happened in BT—Mrs. Beakley dies and in her grief Webby runs out and does something rather stupid for her, an evil OC gang of mine finds her and rapes her at gunpoint, Magica decides to take revenge on Lena and Webby (this was written pre-season finale, back when everyone thought Lena really was Magica’s niece) and teams up with the Bloodhound Gang (said OCs), and in her haste to prevent another rape, Webby kills the Bloodhound Gang leader.

Chapter One: Your Star

  
This time, Lena was positive Webby was trying to drown herself in the shower. She’d hardly spoken on the ride home and the triplets were a little wary of her. Or they were in awe. Lena wasn’t quite sure; it wasn’t like they were talkative either.  
  
Lena knocked on the bathroom door; Webby had been in there for a half hour by now. Even considering she looked like she’d been dunked in blood, she had to have gotten it all out of her feathers and hair by now. When Lena knocked again, there was still no response.  
  
“Webby?” she called.  
  
She tried the door and found it unlocked. Webby hadn’t been showering. She was sitting, huddled in a ball, on the floor of the bathtub against the wall, and hugging her knees. Red encircled the drain and Webby was still wearing her blood-soaked clothes. She hadn’t made any effort to clean herself. Then again, the younger girl seemed to be in a state of shock. She looked up at Lena.  
  
“I didn’t mean to…” she whispered, and her eyes brimmed with tears.  
  
“You acted in self-defense,” Lena replied. “It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“I just...I wanted him to stop...I couldn’t take the idea of it...happening again...so I lashed out and…” Webby swallowed hard. She gasped back a sob and Lena sat on the floor beside the tub. The water splashed down on both of them, although it had already drenched Webby.  
  
“You didn’t kill him on purpose,” Lena soothed, feeling out of her depth. She wished Scrooge would show up and talk to Webby. Regardless of how she felt about the older man, he had to have experienced something similar or had more worldly wisdom than Lena. Lena was still a child.  
  
“He was going to...he was going to…” Webby’s throat constricted and she placed her head on her knees. Lena remembered the way the leader's hands had inched Webby's skirt upward and swallowed rage. Regardless of how Magica had tried to twist the situation, it _had_ been self-defense. Webby had every right to prevent another assault.  
  
“I know,” Lena said softly and teased the bow out of Webby’s hair so she could run her fingers through the girl’s sodden locks. Webby shuddered at the touch.  
  
“Granny taught me how to defend myself and I knew all the steps, but…”  
  
There was a difference between practice and execution. Lena said nothing, continuing to stroke Webby’s hair. The younger girl whimpered; she had new horrors to add to her existing nightmares. They were silent for a while, Lena ignoring the water pouring down on both of them and Webby insensible to it. Time passed, though Lena was uncertain how much. She just knew that when someone knocked at the open door, they both startled, Webby staring accusingly. Lena tensed too, hand on Webby’s shoulder and squeezing.  
  
It was only the triplets. Webby relaxed minutely, although Lena remained on guard. Her hand fell from Webby’s shoulder.  
  
“Are you okay?” Huey asked, frowning. “You’ve been in here for almost an hour.”  
  
“And who takes a shower with their clothes on?” Dewey said, frowning. They edged their way into the now crowded bathroom. Lena scooted to make room and Huey leaned over to shut off the water. Webby’s gaze dropped and she was staring at the bathtub drain like it held all the secrets of the universe. Lena’s heart twisted.  
  
“There was so much blood,” Webby whispered. “It’s everywhere…”  
  
The triplets shared uncomfortable looks and Dewey perched on the edge of the tub nearest Webby.  
  
“Yeah, that happens…” he said, frowning. “When you, you know…”  
  
Dewey seemed unwilling to complete that sentence. All of them could see Webby in their mind’s eye seizing the knife and plunging it into the leader’s chest. A dispassionate part of Lena realized there might’ve been splinters on the knife when Webby had attacked him and those same splinters had lodged into his heart. She was disturbed at how she could think that without wincing. Aunt Magica would’ve come to the same conclusion--not that Lena should be disturbed, but that Webby might’ve expedited the man’s death by introducing foreign contaminants.  
  
“I didn’t mean to!” Webby burst out, indignant and shaking. She bit her lower lip and tears brimmed in her eyes. “It was muscle memory!”  
  
“It was self-defense,” Huey corrected, repeating what Lena had said fifteen minutes earlier. “They were going to hurt you, so you protected yourself. It’s not your fault.”  
  
Webby spoke to the drain instead of them. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”  
  
“There’s a first time for everything,” Louie said, and Huey, Dewey, and Lena shot him dirty looks. Louie ignored them and looked surprised at himself; this was his way of coping with the situation, by trying to play it off.  
  
“You were protecting yourself,” Huey repeated. “C’mon. You need to change and get into some dry clothes.”  
  
Webby didn’t budge, still hugging her knees and staring, disconcerted, at the drain. Lena scooped Webby up and ignored the water splattering all over her clothes. She and the triplets walked toward Webby’s room, where they proceeded to leave her to get changed after putting a towel down for her to sit on. Lena dried her off as best she could with another towel, all the while aware of her clothes dripping onto the one they'd set on the bed. Webby didn’t move from the towel and continued staring, wide-eyed and quivering, at the walls.  
  
“Hey,” Lena said quietly. She sat beside her. She couldn’t pretend to know what was going through Webby’s head right now, but she could make an educated guess. Webby’s fist balled and jabbed out, repeating that fateful gesture.  
  
Magica’s strangulation marks still stood out livid on Webby’s neck and Lena brushed her fingers against her throat. Webby flinched and Lena did too.  
  
“I thought you were all about touch?” Lena said, concealing her hurt at being rebuffed. “You’re always asking for hugs and jumping on me.”  
  
“Webby?” she prompted when the girl said nothing. “Webs?”  
  
It was the boys’ nickname for her and it felt awkward in Lena’s mouth. She didn’t want to undress her and change her; that was a job for--Lena’s jaw tightened and she felt a lump in her throat. It was a job for Mrs. Beakley, Webby’s grandmother. And if Lena hadn’t inserted herself into Webby’s life courtesy of Magica, none of this would’ve happened. Webby would still have her grandmother and someone to soothe away the girl’s fears. Lena felt extraneous, but, worse than that, she felt malignant, like a cancerous growth on the McDuck family.  
  
Webby looked up and Lena almost felt like she could fall into her eyes. They were deep, fathomless, and welled with so much lacerating pain that Lena almost felt like it was branded on her soul. This was her doing. Nothing Lena had done could compensate for the trauma she’d inflicted on Webby, both by her own actions and by Magica’s hand.  
  
What she should do, though the idea wrenched at her heart, was leave Webby alone. Forever. Maybe then the girl could pick up the shattered pieces of her life. Lena’s throat tightened, and she hung her head. Webby was the best thing that had ever happened to Lena. And Lena was the worst thing that had ever crashed into Webby’s life.  
  
She would stay and help Webby change and then she would leave, pack her bags, and disappear. It was what she was good at. She’d done it all of her life. She’d never had friends before Webby and there was a reason. She was toxic.  
  
Webby didn’t protest when Lena helped her undress; the older girl being careful not to look at her too closely. The cut on her chest had scabbed over and Lena helped her find clean, dry clothes to replace the mess she’d been wearing. She dumped them in the trash once Webby had changed and clenched her hand around Webby’s bow. Somehow, she’d forgotten she was carrying it.  
  
“I love you,” Lena murmured, “but I can’t be around you anymore. I’m a wrecking ball on your life, Webby. Don’t--don’t come looking for me.”  
  
She kissed her on the forehead, swallowed the lump in her throat, and headed for the door. Removing the friendship bracelet from her wrist, she placed it around Webby’s wrist where it belonged. Webby reached out for her.  
  
“Lena?” Webby whispered and it took every ounce of Lena’s willpower to push her away, walk out, and shut the door behind her. Her time being possessed by Magica had at least taught her how to exit the manor without using the main entrance and she slipped away, running when she couldn’t stand walking anymore. Tears blinded her vision and she told herself that this was for the best. Webby didn’t need any more complications. Regardless, Lena couldn't bring herself to release Webby's hair ribbon. She told herself that this was all she would let herself keep of her.  
  
She jumped out a window on the second floor, slid down the roof to the first, and then used a tree to land, unscathed, on the ground. Lena cast one last, desperate glance up at McDuck Manor and then bolted, feeling like her heart was breaking with every step she took.  
\----  
  
Scrooge popped in on Webby fifteen minutes later and found the girl lying on her back and staring at the ceiling.  
  
“Lass?” he ventured and Webby’s gaze was tear-streaked as she lifted her head to regard him. “I thought maybe, after what happened, you might wanna get someone to look at you. So, I called a doctor.”  
  
Webby didn’t bring up the fact that Scrooge hadn’t done that the last time. It didn’t seem pertinent. Moreover, she’d been looked after eventually, so it wasn’t a big deal. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to be touched by anyone. And now...her throat tightened. Lena’s goodbye had seemed so final.  
  
“Lass?” he said. Webby rolled over onto her side. She should’ve stopped her. Lena thought that everything that had befallen Webby was her fault and, okay, she’d introduced Magica into her life, but that didn’t mean Lena had _meant_ for any of this to transpire. Lena hadn’t attacked her grandmother. Lena hadn’t sent the Bloodhound Gang after her twice and then prompted Webby to murder their leader. Lena had pleaded with Magica to leave them alone and Magica hadn’t listened. The generations-old feud between de Spell and McDuck had erased any chance of reconciliation.  
  
Scrooge sighed. “I’ll send him in.”  
  
Webby barely paid attention to the doctor examining her. He pronounced her in a state of shock, which Webby had already known, and she tried not to scoff. Any quack could’ve told him that. She fingered the bracelet Lena had returned to her and fought conflicting ideas in her head. When she had the energy for it, she needed to locate Lena, provided the girl hadn’t left Duckberg. Of course, she’d put herself in danger again by venturing out on her own. She’d need to tell the others.  
  
By contrast, if she stayed here, she’d be safe, but she’d lose Lena, possibly forever. Losing Lena forever was unbearable. It felt like she’d just found her again, after the fight with Magica. Webby swallowed back tears.  
  
Scrooge and the doctor seemed to have reached a consensus because Scrooge tucked her in. She sat upright, thrusting the blankets aside.  
  
“I need...need to find Lena…” she whispered.  
  
“Lass, you’re in no condition to go _anywhere_ ,” he refuted. “You’re staying right here, where everyone can keep an eye on you.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” she protested. “Lena left.”  
  
“She’ll be back. You need to get some rest,” he soothed.  
  
“No, she won’t!” she said, heat suffusing her chest and eliminating some of the strange ice that had formed there. The outrage was working its way through her shock.  
  
“She blames herself for what happened to me. She won’t come back.”  
  
“Why would she…” he stopped.  
  
“Because you blamed her too, didn’t you?” she whispered.  
  
Scrooge stepped outside for a minute, shut the door, and uttered what sounded to Webby like a muffled curse. He re-entered, straightened his suit out (she noticed he’d changed since they’d come home), and frowned at her.  
  
“I’ll find her,” he vowed.  
  
Webby’s hope died. He’d find her like he’d found the Bloodhound Gang before. So far, Scrooge was zero for one. It wasn’t that she didn’t have confidence in him, it was that the de Spells were good at hiding when they didn’t want to be found. And Webby doubted that Lena wanted to be located, ever again.

 


	2. Lacrymosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby gets ready to search high and low for Lena, which proves unnecessary. She then tries to prove to Lena that she's wanted and they need each other.

“She ran away?” the triplets said in unison and then scowled at each other.   
  
“Man, I thought we stopped doing that,” Louie complained.  
  
“It wasn’t my idea,” Dewey grumped.  
  
“Never mind that,” Huey said, although he looked irritated at having been caught speaking in chorus with his brothers. They were seated in Webby’s room and on her bed in a semicircle with her at their head. Louie was on her immediate right, Dewey on her left, and Huey opposite her. Louie kept seeing Webby stabbing that the bulldog and took her hand to keep his mind off it. It was the same hand that had stabbed the guy, but he wasn’t focusing on that. It was shaking in his and he was irritated, not only because of their speaking at once, but that Lena had left Webby high and dry. If she’d known what she had and she’d left her anyway...it wasn’t forgivable.  
  
“You have any idea where she might’ve gone?” Huey asked and Webby shook her head.  
  
That was another thing. Webby was barely speaking again. This wasn’t like her  _at all_. He hated that Lena had, indirectly, done this to her. This wasn’t their Webby. _His_ Webby. His hand tightened on hers, painfully so, and she gave him a warning look.  
  
“If she wants to disappear, why not let her?” Louie said and Webby glowered. “She’s been nothing but trouble.”  
  
“She almost sacrificed herself for Webby when they were fighting Magica--she told her what Magica’s weakness was and helped us take her down,” Huey reminded Louie. Louie scoffed.  
  
“Wouldn’t have needed to do that if she hadn’t shoved herself into our lives anyway,” he rejoined.  
  
Dewey looked from one brother to the other. Louie stood up, still clasping Webby’s hand. Righteous fury flooded him and he looked down at her. He didn’t understand how, after doing all that damage, Lena thought she had the right to walk away and keep hurting Webby. Like she was somehow absolved of guilt by abandoning her.  
  
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Huey said, still unruffled. Louie simmered, hating that his older brother was undaunted. He’d been so frustrated over the last few weeks between the nightmares, worry over Webby, and this whole situation. How the hell had Huey kept it together? And this had all come on the heels of the fight in the Sunchaser, not to mention the showdown with Magica. Louie had had it up to here with this bullshit.  
  
“You’re acting like you’re the only one who’s had nightmares and no sleep,” Dewey interjected, glaring at Louie. “We’ve all been suffering.”  
  
“And we wouldn’t have been if Lena had kept her nose out of our business,” Louie countered.  
  
He noticed that Webby hadn’t spoken. She hadn’t contradicted them or responded in any manner, other than to glare at him. He rounded on her.  
  
“How can you sit there and say nothing?” he snapped. “I thought you loved her. Or at least liked her. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ve realized that she’s no good and that you don’t want her around either.”  
  
“Leave her alone,” Dewey growled, turning around so that he was facing Louie instead of Webby.   
  
“I don’t think that’s how she feels,” Huey argued.  
  
“I don’t know how she really feels because ever since her grandmother died, she’s been like a shell!” Louie growled. “Sometimes you can poke her into responding and sometimes, like now, she stares at nothing and doesn’t speak!”  
  
Webby pushed herself off the bed and Louie grabbed her wrist.  
  
“Where are you going?” he demanded.   
  
“I’m going to talk to Scrooge,” she shot back. “It’s better than listening to you three argue about how I feel, like I’m not even in the room.”  
  
“You could’ve said something…” Louie said, feeling like he’d been hit on the head with a sledgehammer.  
  
“Did you even care or are you determined to hate Lena so much that my opinions don’t matter unless they validate your own?” she rejoined. “Let go of me, Louie.”  
  
“I’m saying that maybe you’re not being level-headed about this stuff,” Louie argued.   
  
“I know you’re upset, but Lena didn’t  _do_ any of this,” Webby said and stiffened her lower beak. “She wouldn’t have wanted any of this for me and she left because she was afraid she’d keep hurting me.”  
  
“And that’s what she did when she bailed,” Louie countered.  
  
“You don’t need her,” Dewey added. “You have us.”  
  
Webby ground her beak and Louie wasn’t sure whether she was about to cry or punch one of them in the face. The odds were about 50/50, although she’d never intentionally struck them before, not to hurt them. They’d never raised the issue of Lena before and Louie wondered if this was why. He wondered whether it might be too late to take it down a notch; they’d been intimidated by her before. Now that they’d seen her kill someone, though, that was entirely different.  
  
“You’re doing this because you care about me,” she said after a pregnant pause, in which Louie steeled himself to get smacked. “And I appreciate that. Really. But this isn’t up for discussion.”  
  
“How do you know she even wants to be found?” Dewey said and Webby’s shoulders sank.  
  
“She doesn’t,” she said. “And unlike last time, she won’t come back. It was bad enough when she blamed herself for Granny’s death. This is worse.”  
  
Holding her chin up, her body trembling, she pushed her way past them and out the door. Her shoulders were shaking and Louie and Dewey hurried to her side with Huey right behind them. Louie’s stomach sank. Had he made matters worse for her? He’d only been trying to protect her. If Lena was really as bad as he thought, then she shouldn’t be near Webby. But Webby didn’t agree. And Webby was entitled to make her own decisions.  
  
No matter how poorly they’d turned out lately.   
  
Was it so bad that he wanted to protect her, even though he knew that she could defend herself? That he just wanted her for himself, not something he had to share with someone else? If Lena had left, then she’d hurt Webby, yes, but she’d also left an opening. And Louie was nothing if not an opportunist.  
  
Huey gave him a look like he knew exactly what his youngest brother was thinking and disapproved. Louie shrugged. He could disapprove all he liked. That wouldn’t stop him. Louie took Webby’s hand and Webby didn’t stop him. True, she might not have noticed--she was getting a little spacey--but he preferred to think it was because she wanted him to. It shook in his and he remembered how strong she’d been, to punch a hole through the guy’s sternum.   
  
“You know, I think your grandmother would’ve been proud of you,” Louie said. “Not for the whole running away part, but for beating off an attacker and sending all of them scurrying.”  
  
“Really?” Webby said and her trembling lessened.   
  
“You can be pretty intense when you want to be,” Dewey agreed. “Webby intense, not normal person intense. It’s a whole other category.”  
  
Webby blushed. “Thanks, guys.”  
  
Her expression turned serious again. “Where would someone go if they didn’t want to be found?”  
  
“Cape Suzette?” Dewey suggested and ignored the dirty looks his brothers gave him. “What? Just saying. It’s either that or Saint Canard.”  
  
“Scrooge isn’t going to let us go,” Huey said. “It’s too dangerous. Way too much crime and lawlessness. There’s a reason that Darkwing Duck was set there.”  
  
“Then I bet that’s where Lena went,” Webby mused and the boys groaned.  
  
“You can’t go there by yourself,” Huey objected.   
  
 _Not after last time_  was the unspoken addition to that sentence.  
  
“I never said I was going to,” she said and smiled impishly. While it was heartening to see her smile like that, it was also worrying. It meant she was plotting, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the outcome. He already wasn’t pleased at the idea of chasing after Lena in a random town they’d never been to after Webby had been beset by thugs twice in Duckberg, which was supposed to be safe.   
  
“Who knows the streets of Saint Canard better than Launchpad McQuack?” she asked. “He’s probably memorized every single episode of Darkwing Duck.”  
  
“Okay, you  _cannot_ rope Launchpad into this,” Louie objected. “He’s a fanboy. He’s not reliable. And you know he’ll crash.”  
  
“I’m a fangirl,” she countered, daring them to argue. After their previous bickering, Louie was afraid to raise the point.   
  
“I know everything I could find out about Scrooge McDuck and the Duck family,” she continued. “And everything I could learn from Agent 22 about self-defense and fighting. If you have knowledge, you should use it.”  
  
“There’s a difference between using knowledge and being suicidal,” Dewey argued. Braver duck than Louie was. “What if you end up stranded somewhere in Saint Canard and even Launchpad doesn’t know where you are?”  
  
“GPS,” she said simply.  
  
“What if your phone gets stolen?” Dewey shot back.  
  
“It won’t,” she said, smug. “You’re just coming up with excuses to shoot me down now.”  
  
“Maybe we are, but it’s dangerous,” Huey said.  
  
“Everything lately has been dangerous,” she retorted. “I’m sick of sitting around the manor. It’s not safe either, in case you haven’t noticed. Magica walked right up and abducted the four of us. I’d rather be unsafe and somewhere doing something productive than sitting around here twiddling my thumbs.”  
  
The boys exchanged uneasy glances. She had a valid point. The manor hadn’t proven especially defensible lately. It felt like any of their enemies could waltz right in and wreak havoc. True, Magica was a special case, since no one had any defense against magic, nothing reliable as far as Louie knew. But who knew what was going to be thrown at them next?   
  
Webby smiled. “You see what I mean, then.”  
  
“If I say yes, will you give up on it and let Scrooge look for her?” Huey said.  
  
Webby scowled. “No. He didn’t find the Bloodhound Gang and he’s not going to find Lena, not by himself.”  
  
“Pretty sure Magica was hiding them, though,” Dewey commented. “And I don’t think Lena’s proficient enough in magic to hide herself.”  
  
“Then you agree with me,” she said, triumphant.   
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” Louie said, holding up his free hand. “We did not say that. And Scrooge is not going to agree to this.”  
  
“There are other ways to get around without telling him,” she said. Oh, no, Louie did  _not_ like where this was going. And he had the bad feeling he and his brothers were about to be roped into it, hook, line, and sinker.  
  
\----  
  
Lena was throwing her things into a bag and hating herself. She’d tied Webby’s ribbon around her wrist, like a sad mockery of the friendship bracelet. It rested there malevolently, as if condemning her for fleeing and then for permitting all of those atrocities to befall her so-called best friend. She deserved this, all the pain and anguish that came from breaking ties with Webby. If she could take Webby’s trauma onto herself, she would. Magica’s nightmarish taunts from the last two weeks echoed on repeat in her head and she sank to her knees.  
  
What she wanted to do was sleep until it stopped hurting. It was a childish reaction. How dare she think she could escape what she’d done. How dare she think she had the right. Lena’s hands trembled on her diary. For years, all she’d done was run. She hadn’t stopped in Duckberg because she had wanted to. How different things might have been had she kept running.  
  
It was too difficult to pack now. She collapsed back onto her cot and scrubbed at her eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get Webby’s ribbon wet. Curling into a ball, she hugged her knees. Her imagination and Magica’s fueled nightmares showed her what had happened to Webby because of her. Lena had let it happen. Everyone Lena ever touched ended up in worse shape because the de Spell family was cursed, and Lena was just the latest byproduct.   
  
Maybe she’d be all right if she slept for a little while. When she woke up, she’d leave Duckberg. She ought to know better than to concede to the fatigue, but her limbs were leaden. Too much had happened in a month. She choked back sobs and hated that she might end up crying herself to sleep. Whenever she did, she woke up with a headache. It’d happened enough times to know.  
  
She felt herself drifting and ignored the hand on her shoulder. It might be her aunt come to torment her again. If that was the case, she wanted no part of it. No one else knew she was down here, did they?   
  
 _Go away, Aunt Magica…_  
  
Someone scooped her up, much gentler than anything Aunt Magica would’ve ever done, and Lena fought back to the surface. She was drained, still crying softly, and it almost felt like too much work to return to consciousness. Besides, this might be a dream. No one was coming for her. No one cared for her besides Webby and she’d already made her position with Webby clear.  
  
She knew the boys hated her and wouldn’t have sent someone after her. That left Scrooge and she doubted Scrooge cared enough to intervene. No, this was her long-lost father, bringing her back to love finally. Lena relaxed, her tears abating, and surrendered to sleep entirely.  
  
\----  
  
“I told Webby I’d find her,” Scrooge said quietly, wary of waking Lena. He buckled her in and winced when she cried in her sleep. The sobs struck him like blows to the heart.  
  
“You’ll be okay, lass,” he reassured Lena, who couldn’t hear him anyway. Launchpad climbed into the pilot’s seat and looked back at her.   
  
“You sure she won’t try to flee again once we bring her back to the manor?” he asked, frowning.   
  
“Aye,” he said. “Because I’m going to have a good long talk with her first.”  
  
She was just a  _child_. She was so young to have endured all that darkness and misery. Looking at her, Scrooge felt every year of his age. He also felt oddly fond of her; if Webby thought she was family, then who was Scrooge to argue with that? Lena curled into a tighter ball on the seat and buried her face in her knees to cry quietly. Scrooge noticed Webby’s ribbon tied around her right wrist.  
  
His eyes flashed warningly at Launchpad. “Try not to crash this time. The lass deserves to sleep for once.”  
  
“Can do, Mr. McDee,” he replied, and Scrooge stifled a sigh. Given Launchpad’s track record, he wasn’t putting too much stock in that promise.  
  
\----  
  
Lena awoke in a strange room and tensed, reaching for the magic she used to have in spades. Nothing happened, only the equivalent of trickles between her fingers. Where  _was_ she? The surroundings were sumptuous, which meant it had to be McDuck Manor. But how? She’d fallen asleep in the underground and yet, here she was, and her belongings were beside her on a side table.   
  
She was in a four-poster bed and when she thrust the curtains aside, she saw a full-length mirror, a chest of drawers, a small bookshelf, and, lying at the end of her bed, Webby. Webby closed the book she’d been reading, and Lena’s guilt wrenched at her. The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed like she’d been crying.   
  
“Hi,” Lena said in a tight voice.   
  
“Hi,” Webby said. Her lips twitched like she was fighting a small smile. “Looks like Uncle Scrooge is one for one now. He didn’t find the Bloodhound Gang or Magica before, but he found you.”  
  
“I wasn’t trying very hard to hide,” she said with a shrug. “I kinda fell asleep in my hideout.”  
  
Webby looked pointedly at Lena’s items in a backpack beside her. “Are you going to stay?”  
  
Lena tensed. She hadn’t wanted to. This was the opposite of what she’d wanted. She’d thought by extricating herself from Webby’s life, things would be less complicated for Webby. Or had she tried to run from what she’d done? Webby clearly cared enough about her that she’d sent someone after her. Lena couldn’t bring herself to meet the younger girl’s eyes.  
  
“You don’t have to,” she reassured her, but Lena heard the torment in Webby’s voice. “You can go. I’ll tell Uncle Scrooge and the triplets to let you go.”  
  
“I was trying to protect you,” Lena said, feeling like the jagged edges that comprised her were rubbing together and lacerating her within. “All of this stuff happened because of me.”  
  
“No, it happened because of  _Magica_ ,” Webby corrected.  
  
“And I was just her pawn?” Lena said scathingly and regretted it when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Webby flinch. Fuck.  
  
“You didn’t have a choice,” Webby countered. “You didn’t want to hurt me. And everything that happened afterward wasn’t your fault either.”  
  
“A real friend wouldn’t have led her friend into danger,” Lena said.  
  
“Is that all we are?” Webby asked and the serrated edges inside Lena grated further, cutting her up inside until she felt like pulped, raw meat.   
  
“Can you at least look at me, Lena?” she whispered.  
  
When Lena didn’t speak, Webby added, “Uncle Scrooge said you were crying in your sleep.”  
  
Lena stared at the bedspread. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She didn’t deserve this. Why was Webby so devoted to her? She’d done nothing to deserve it.   
  
They were silent, and Lena balled her fists beneath the sheets. She needed to say something, before Webby left and thought the worst of her. But wouldn’t that have been for the best? Lena had thought Webby would have been better off without her, yet she’d tracked her down anyway.  
  
She wouldn’t know if she cried in her sleep. She’d slept beside Webby before, but the younger girl had awoken later, and Lena had snuck away before she’d roused. What was  _wrong_ with her? Why was she sabotaging the only good thing in her life? Because of Magica? Or because she hated herself?  
  
“Lena.”  
  
Webby was no longer pleading, but ordering. “Lena.  _Look at me_.”  
  
Lena sat, frozen, for a minute before all of her fears crashed upon her. Webby would demand she leave and never return. Webby actually hated her and was grilling her before repudiating her. Magica was orchestrating this whole event for her private amusement and never intended to let Lena have any happiness, because Lena didn’t deserve it. Because Lena was a monster. She was a pawn in Magica’s ploys and everything she touched turned to ash.  
  
Lena’s lower beak quivered, and she threw herself at Webby. She needed to reassure herself that the other girl was real and not abandoning her, not like everyone else who claimed to care for her. Webby, startled, hugged her back and kissed her on the crown of the head and then thumbed away her tears.  
  
“Hey,” Webby said gently. “Hey. I’m not upset with you. I never blamed you for what happened to Granny and I don’t blame you for what fell out with the Bloodhound Gang and Magica. Hey. It’s okay. Breathe, Lena.”  
  
Lena hugged her tightly, so tightly she felt sure that she’d protest. She did no such thing.  
  
“Hey…” Webby soothed.  “If you only want to be friends…”  
  
Lena shook her head. Her throat had constricted too far for speech. She trembled in Webby’s arms and Webby rested her chin on her head.   
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “And neither are you, right?”  
  
Lena shook her head again and let all of the anguish she’d been holding in for years flood out of her. She was going to get Webby drenched again, this time in tears instead of blood, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop. It was like a faucet with a broken knob. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.  
  
When she’d cried herself hoarse and dry, Webby chuckled weakly.  
  
“I’m going to have to change again,” she whispered, and Lena’s lips twitched toward a weak smile too.  
  
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left,” Lena whispered back.  
  
“You’re safe here,” Webby promised. “You’re part of the family now. No one gets left behind or forgotten.”  
  
“Isn’t that a quote from a movie?” Lena said, this time mustering a tiny smile.  
  
“Of course, it is,” Webby said, smiling back. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”


	3. Hi-Lo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cute Lena/Webby moments...interrupted by a transmission from the Spear of Selene and Glomgold telling Scrooge that he's found Della Duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel like this series is shouting into a void. I'm not getting any reviews, but I love it too much to give up on it. So I'll update this with the others, regardless.

Webby’s throat was tight as she held onto Lena. She was afraid to let her go, because if she did, the other girl would vanish and never return. She’d endured too much over the past few weeks to risk losing her again. If that meant clinging to her, then she’d do it. Besides, she had never replied to Lena’s declaration. It felt like she’d wronged her by saying nothing in response.

  
“Are you okay?” Lena asked. “I can’t believe I cried all over you and didn’t ask how you were.”

  
“Oh, I’m fine,” Webby said in a brittle voice. “My best friend, the girl I have feelings for, keeps disappearing, I just killed someone, I lost my grandmother, I haven’t slept well in weeks, and a bunch of thugs used me as a toy.”

  
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “At least I got them back. I wish Granny was here…”

  
She burst into tears and it was Lena’s turn to cradle her. Webby turned her tear-streaked face toward Lena and kissed her on the beak. Lena kissed her back and Webby draped her arms around her neck. It was the first time she’d ever kissed someone while crying and she was pretty sure Lena could taste her tears. She was carding her fingers through Webby’s hair.

  
“I’m here,” Lena whispered. “I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

  
“I love you,” Webby whispered back and Lena smiled. Webby dropped her arms from around Lena’s neck to encircle her waist.

  
“I love you too,” Lena said. “Even if I am a wrecking ball.”

  
Webby wanted to controvert her, but another sob escaped, and she lowered her head to lay it against Lena’s chest. Lena’s heartbeat was comforting, reminding her of when she’d clung to her grandmother and, in a distant memory, her mother. Webby could barely remember her parents; her grandmother had raised her. Anything else was incidental.

  
“Hey,” Lena said. “You might as well let it all out. It’s not as if this bed is going to get any drier.”

  
Webby laughed weakly. Lena smiled weakly back and they shifted position so that they were curled up together. In this position, it was almost possible for her to believe that the last few weeks had been a horrible nightmare. Almost. She could almost believe she was safe, too.

  
“Gangs…don’t normally seek revenge when you kill their leaders, do they?” Webby said.

  
“Um…” Lena faltered. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

  
“I thought we were done with them when they ran away,” she said, closing her eyes so she could concentrate on Lena’s heartbeat against her ear. It was soothing.

  
“Unless they ran away to find new friends,” Lena muttered. Webby winced. That was possible. Lena’s cagey response told Webby more than she needed to know. The Bloodhound Gang would not be happy with her for offing their head honcho, no matter how much he’d deserved it.

  
“They wouldn’t come after Uncle Scrooge and the boys, would they?”

  
“I don’t know about that either,” Lena replied. “I don’t have a lot of experience with gangs, other than staying away from them.”

  
“Oh.”

  
Lena kissed the top of her head as if to take the sting out of her replies. Webby tilted her head upward and they kissed again, soft and sweet; it made Webby’s heart flutter. Her girlfriend? Was that what Lena was to her now? She’d been Webby’s first real crush.

  
“Don’t worry about it right now,” Lena advised and Webby made an unhappy noise that Lena had broken off the kiss to tell her that.  
Determined, she kissed her on the lips again and Lena smiled, caressing her cheek.

  
“You’re a greedy little thing, you know that?” Lena teased. “You’re so affectionate.”

  
“You like it,” Webby rejoined, smiling. “You know you do.”

  
Lena didn’t respond for a minute. She rested her forehead against Webby’s.

  
“Yeah, I like it,” she said. “I wasn’t much of a hugger until you pushed it on me.”

  
Webby’s smile faded. Lena hadn’t had much affection growing up, because she’d had Magica as a shadow. She’d been tethered to the cruel woman’s will and forced to grow up alone and unwanted. Webby intended to rectify that as best she could. And besides, she enjoyed kissing and showing affection. It made her feel good to make Lena feel good.

  
“Hey,” Lena said. “We’re cuddling. Don’t ruin the mood.”

  
Webby’s smile returned, albeit weaker than before. She relaxed in Lena’s arms. She should try to get some more sleep. She felt like she had a sleep debt that would last the rest of her life. And besides, she could sleep now that she knew Lena wasn’t vanishing into the night.

  
They lapsed into silence and Webby was almost asleep when Lena called her name.

  
“Webby?”

  
“Mmm?”

  
“Your phone’s vibrating. It’s been vibrating like, non-stop for the last five minutes. Someone must really want to talk to you.”

  
Half asleep, Webby dug into her pocket for her phone and hit ‘accept’ on the screen. It didn’t occur to her that it could be someone malicious, because she was too exhausted to care. And anyway, she didn’t know how any villains could have her phone number, even if they had Scrooge’s.

  
“Webby? Where are you?” Huey asked and Webby awoke a little more.

  
“What’s wrong?” she said.

  
“It’s the telecommunications unit from the Spear of Selene. It’s active again. Scrooge just got a ping.”

  
Webby bolted upright, all traces of sleep gone. “I’ll be right there.”

  
“Right where?” Lena asked, sounding grumpy. She must’ve been about to fall asleep too. Oops. Webby smiled sheepishly.

  
“Something huge just happened,” she told her. “C’mon, c’mon. Don’t you wanna see what it is?”

  
“No,” Lena said and then sighed. Webby’s face must’ve fallen, because she relented. “All right. But then we get some more sleep. I’m not running on empty anymore.”

  
“I promise,” she said, but sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. She had to control the ability to squeal uncontrollably and bounce around like a maniac. Here was a piece of the McDuck history in the making! And she was here to witness it!

  
_Could solve a mystery…or rewrite history…_

  
Hopping off the bed, she grabbed Lena’s hand, squeezed it, squealed, and then darted to the door. Huey was still talking, but she’d lost the train of thought. Come to think of it, it might’ve been along the lines of him telling her to stop squealing in his ear. Oops. That wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t control her excitement.

  
“Woah, calm down, fangirl,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “What is this and why are you acting like a squirrel that just got electrocuted?”

  
“The Spear of Selene…” Webby breathed like it explained everything. To her, it did. To Lena, whose expression wrinkled in confusion, it explained nothing. It looked like she’d have to do a quick catch-up and so, while escorting Lena to the telecommunications room, she filled her in. Huey sighed, exasperated, told her he’d see her in a minute, and hung up.

  
“Always family drama with the McDuck family, huh?” Lena said. “Reminds me again why I don’t want anything to do with my family.”

  
Webby wilted. She didn’t have any family anymore. This showed on her face, because Lena squeezed her hand. Webby squeezed back. While she’d dampened her enthusiasm, she hadn’t extinguished it entirely. Webby still stepped lightly as they rounded the corner and found the boys, Donald, and Scrooge sitting in front of a large, old-school looking machine.

  
“Anything happen while I was gone?” Webby asked.

  
“Another ping,” Scrooge said and frowned at Lena’s appearance. “She’s not family, lass.”

  
“Neither am I, according to you,” Webby said and winced in memory of him screaming at her. This time, she didn’t have Granny to shield her from Scrooge’s rage. This time, however, Scrooge didn’t appear irritated, just drained. Lena’s hand on hers had tightened.

  
“I told you that you should’ve apologized,” Huey said to Scrooge. “Webby is as much family as we are. She spent her life living with you before we showed up. She’s obsessed with the McDuck family. If she’s not a family member, she’s an honorary member.”

  
Scrooge grimaced. “I’m sorry, Webby. I shouldn’t have yelled at you on the Sunchaser. But Lena is not family.”

  
“If I’m family, then so’s Lena,” Webby said.

  
“Uh…” the boys said, frowning.

  
“Not really…” Dewey said.

  
“Still don’t trust her,” Louie added. Lena scowled, looking very much like she wanted to give him a piece of her mind. Webby jerked her back.

  
“Is that because I’m Magica’s niece or because I kissed Webby?” Lena snapped at him. “Because I can’t control the first one and as for the second one…”

  
She smirked. “I. Win.”

  
Louie started too, and Dewey and Huey grabbed him by the hood to prevent him from launching himself at Lena.

  
“Lass…” Scrooge said at Webby warningly.

  
“But I can’t miss this,” Webby protested. “I’ve been waiting for years too. It’s not fair.”

  
“We’re not asking you to miss it,” Dewey countered. “We’re just asking her to leave.”

  
“Asking or demanding?” Lena snapped. “Fine, I’ll stay out of this. But I’m not going anywhere. I promised Webby I wouldn’t leave her again.”

  
She released Webby’s hand and, to the younger girl’s dismay, vacated the room. The triplets watched her go with varying expressions of distaste and hatred on their faces. Louie was scrutinizing Webby now to gauge her reaction.

  
“She didn’t kiss you again, did she?” Louie asked.

  
“Hello, this could’ve been our mom pinging us and you’re fixating on that?” Huey rejoined. “This can wait.”

  
“I don’t think it was Della…” Scrooge said. “It’s only sending, not receiving.”

  
“That’s a good sign, though, isn’t it?” Huey pressed. “It wasn’t doing either until recently.”

  
All six startled when one of the cameras blinked to life. The picture was extremely grainy and only held for a handful of seconds before fading back to black. An adult, female duck was sitting in front of the controls and she bore a strong resemblance to the Della Duck Webby had seen in the pictures. Flabbergasted, the others stared.

  
“Mom?” the boys whispered.

  
“It wasn’t spitting out old feed, was it?” Huey asked.

  
“Her hair was longer, and she looked older,” Dewey argued. “It can’t have been. It had to have been Mom.”

  
“But where was she broadcasting from?” Scrooge said. “We checked all over and didn’t find a trace of her.”

  
“Was anyone tracking where the pings were coming from?” Webby asked.

  
“Yes, but it makes no sense,” Scrooge said. “I’ll have to call Gyro. None of these readings make any sense. If she’s where I think she is, it’s impossible for her to transmit. Nothing can go in or out of the dark side of the moon.”

  
"Could someone have found her and then forwarded the signal?" Webby asked. Huey had rewound the recording to fixate on their mom and the boys were staring, transfixed. Webby's chest ached and she wasn't sure whether it was because she felt for the boys or because she couldn't remember what her mother looked like. It might've been both.

  
"Someone could've recorded her and then left the dark side of the moon to send this..." Scrooge mused. "But who? Who would have a vested interest in my family?"

  
The image on the screen changed abruptly and the five of them jumped. Flintheart Glomgold stared back at them and, unlike Della Duck's static image, this one moved. Scrooge watched the screen warily, as if Glomgold was a snake about to strike. He rested his hands protectively on Huey and Louie's shoulders.

  
An odd expression flitted across Louie's face and he shifted closer to his great-uncle. Hmm. Curious.

  
"I found something of yours on the moon, Scroogie," Glomgold said. "I can bring her down for you or you can meet me and fetch her yourself."

  
He was sans his usual teasing manner, Webby noticed. If anything, his expression was grave. Scrooge tightened his grip on two of the three triplets. Dewey inched closer to Scrooge too and then glanced back at Webby; his expression was hopeful, but cautious.

  
"And why would you do this for me?" Scrooge inquired. "Since when do you do me favors, Flintheart?"

  
"Treasure is treasure and gold is gold. That's all fair in fighting," he said. "But you don't fight about family. And she's been missing for a fair amount of years, hasn't she?"

  
"But, how is she still alive?" Huey asked. "She's been gone for ten years without enough supplies, wearing the old spacesuit, and without anyone to help? How is that possible?"

  
"You'd have to ask her, laddie," Glomgold said. "I'm just the messenger.”

  
“But what were you doing on the moon in the first place?” Scrooge demanded.

  
“If you want to know, you’ll have to meet me,” Glomgold returned. Webby watched the play of emotions on his face and questioned whether the other Scottish duck was lying. He had to be withholding something. Was the footage old? Was it fabricated? But how could he be that cruel? She knew they disliked each other and always had, but to hold up evidence of Scrooge’s niece and the triplets’ mother only to shove it in his face that Della was missing, presumed dead, would be too malevolent for him, wouldn’t it?

  
“I’ll meet you there,” Scrooge said in a tight voice. He turned toward the kids.

  
“Get ready. We’re going to outer space.”

\----

  
Lena watched Webby pack. The younger duck had gone on at length about what had happened to the triplets’ mother and what Glomgold wanted. All Lena had gotten out of this was (one), that she didn’t care about the triplets’ mother, and (two), that Webby was leaving her. Again. This time, she’d be supervised, but there was no way the McDuck family would permit Lena to ride along with them. They’d made it clear--she wasn’t family and Lena didn’t want to be family. She just wanted to be with Webby.

  
“Why aren’t you packing?” Webby said, after a particularly verbose statement that Lena hadn’t caught any of.

  
“Don’t tell me you missed the whole ‘you’re not family, Lena’, blah blah blah, ‘get out’ thing,” Lena said, tossing her head. “It’s fine. I’m not invited. I’ll just hang out around here and do what I did before I met you.”

  
“But you have to come!” Webby pressed.

  
“I’m not part of their family and, to be honest, Webby, I don’t want to be,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “They’re too happy and close for me. Family’s never brought me anything but trouble.”

  
“You’re family to me,” Webby said quietly.

  
“You’re sweet. Really,” Lena said. “But I’ll be fine on my own. I was before.”

  
“You had Magica as your abusive talking shadow before,” Webby pointed out. “How could you have been ‘fine’?”

  
Lena shrugged. “I’ll deal. Don’t worry about it. Go on your little adventure and I’ll be here when you get back.”

  
Webby swallowed and Lena read the conflict in her eyes. She badly wanted to go with the triplets, Scrooge, and Donald. On the other hand, she feared leaving Lena behind.

  
“I’ll be okay,” she repeated. “I promise.”

  
“How do I know you won’t disappear again?” Webby said, her voice strained.

  
“I’ll promise on our friendship bracelets not to go,” she said and Webby relaxed minutely. She hugged Lena impulsively and kissed her on the cheek. Lena hugged her back and stamped down the jealousy she felt. Even if she didn’t have a biological family anymore, Webby had a foster family. She had people who loved and cared about her. All Lena had was Webby.

  
Maybe she should have postponed leaving her until after she knew Webby was going to do the same. That way, it’d hurt less. She put on a brave face for the younger duck, but when Webby released her, Lena turned her head away. She didn’t want her to see the tears brimming in her eyes.

  
What had she done before discovering Webby and the others? Exist. That’s all she’d done. She’d existed and she’d been Magica’s emotional punching bag. The latter wouldn’t happen again, but she wasn’t looking forward to a long time of just existing without anything else to show for it. When Webby left, Lena watched her go and swallowed past a lump in her throat.

  
If everyone was leaving, save the ghost Duckworth, no one would notice if Lena left too. For a little while. Maybe she’d try to hunt down her long lost father. Then again, if he’d really cared about her, he would have sought her out before now.

  
No, Webby was the only person in the world who cared at all about her. And she was heading off into space and abandoning her.

  
_“But if you want to leave, you can. I’ll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves.”_

  
Why should Webby return to her? She had a whole other life without her. She didn’t need her. Lena remembered what Webby had said to her and their kisses and held it tight to her. She might need it to sustain her for a long time.


	4. The End of the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McDuck family (and Webby) go into space and Lena decides she's going to track down the Bloodhound Gang by herself. (This proves to be a big mistake, as later chapters will reveal).

Scrooge had a few things he needed to take care of before setting off on his journey to the moon. For one thing, he needed to ensure that the Bloodhound Gang leader quietly “disappeared”. It didn’t hurt that the man had a criminal background and used numerous aliases. He was wanted by the police, but that was also taken care of rather easily. It was amazing how much money simplified things. Money made the world go ‘round.  
  
He also needed to find a therapist for Webbigail. That was a little more difficult because he needed to find someone who would be discreet. Webby needed to be able to talk about what she’d endured without fear of repercussions. Even so, he doubted she’d be divulging that she’d killed someone any time soon. It shook you to the core when you killed someone. After what the Bloodhound Gang had done to her and what she’d retaliated with, she’d lost her innocence. And Scrooge hated that.  
  
What he also hated was that the three remaining members had gone underground. Not in the conventional sense, because the criminals were fleeing Scrooge left and right. Rather, they appeared to have left Duckberg, at least for the time being. Like Lena, Scrooge figured the other members might bear a grudge against Webby and he wanted to keep them behind bars where they couldn’t reach her. Of course, they couldn’t reach her on the moon, either, but he’d feel a lot better if they were secure before he and his family left Earth.  
  
One of the things he hadn’t done, with Magica wreaking havoc and then the Bloodhound Gang throwing everything out of whack, was have a proper funeral for Mrs. Beakley. Webby needed the closure, as did the boys. However, Scrooge knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from running to Della’s aid, assuming Glomgold wasn’t pulling a fast one on him. The funeral would have to wait a bit longer.  
  
The boys were equal parts suspicious and excited and he shared in their enthusiasm. He loved seeing the adventurous spirit kindled in his family and Webby had gotten caught up...except when she didn’t. Her moods were still off-kilter and he worried she wasn’t entirely stable. He couldn’t tell her that she couldn’t accompany them--she’d find a way to sneak aboard, regardless. Nonetheless, he questioned whether it was wise to let her join them when she had so much to deal with on her own. She was just postponing the inevitable; after all, she’d have to confront it sooner or later.  
  
Right now, Webby was briefing the boys on what she knew about the moon. Huey was chiming in, Louie looked bored out of his skull and was playing with his phone, and Dewey was interrupting to ask questions about their mom. Lena was nowhere to be seen. He regretted casting her out, but she wasn’t family. Although, he supposed she could be, given time. It wasn’t fair to hold Mrs. Beakley’s murder against her, even if she’d been the hand that had struck the fatal blow. Lena hadn’t been in possession of her faculties at that point.  
  
Speaking of which, he still hadn’t repaired the damage done to the lobby and staircase. Magica’s attacks had torn up the carpets and drapes, as well as gouging marks in the floor. Scrooge had been wary of letting strangers in, considering how jumpy Webby was, and also, he hadn’t been sleeping well either. Magica’s damn nightmares had afflicted him too and he kept seeing himself losing his family in different ways. He thought she might’ve been focusing particularly on him in a desire to drive him insane. It’d very nearly worked, too.  
  
Scrooge sighed. Between his age catching up to him and the nightmares depriving him of sleep, he was a very tired duck. Right now, he was running on pure adrenaline, but that was bound to run out sooner or later. He couldn’t ignore Della, though, nor could he ignore Glomgold. He didn’t know what his rival was planning and whether he’d been genuine in his regard. Sometimes, Glomgold was hard to read. They’d also had a few moments in the past that had run dangerously close to frenemy territory and perhaps more than that. There was something to be said for sharing heritage and wealth.  
  
Donald was waiting for him on the ship. Of the group, he alone had escaped Magica’s nightmares. Magica wasn’t concerned with him and had only focused on the manor’s inhabitants. Donald, on his houseboat, was irrelevant. Besides, Magica didn’t consider him a real threat. Donald had had more sleep than the others, but he’d been worried about the boys not sleeping well. In a way, Donald was more their father than their uncle.  
  
Scrooge wrinkled his beak. He wished he knew who the boys’ father was. Della had never told him and he’d never had a chance to ask her before she’d stolen the  _Spear of Silene_. With his weakness for her, he hadn’t had the heart to pursue the matter.  
  
“Are you okay, Uncle Scrooge?” Donald asked. “Nobody in the mansion has slept well for almost three weeks now.”  
  
“I’ll crash sooner or later, I expect,” Scrooge said. “But this is more important.”  
  
“Do you think it’s really her?” Donald asked.  
  
“After all this time? I have my doubts,” he admitted. “But we have no choice but to go to Glomgold. We’ll get the full story one way or another.”  
  
“Are you sure you should bring the boys?” Donald pressed. “What if it’s not her? I don’t wanna see them disappointed again. It could break them.”  
  
“If I had my druthers, I wouldn’t take any of the kids,” he said. “I don’t want them disappointed either. But this could be their mother. I can’t say ‘no’ to them.”  
  
“I can,” Donald said, stiffening his upper beak.  
  
“But do you really want to?”  
  
Donald’s shoulders slumped. “There’s no point in keeping this from them, is there? They’re determined to find out everything they can about Della. We can’t keep leaving them in the dark.”  
  
Scrooge nodded and they turned as the kids boarded the craft. Scrooge couldn’t bring himself to smile at them. There was too much riding on this and he was running on fumes, just like the rest of them. He was also trusting Launchpad to guide them into space, which didn’t exactly instill confidence in him.  
  
Mister He Could Crash Anything had better not strand them on the moon. At least he had the skills to repair what he’d broken, but Scrooge would rather the rocket not get wrecked in the first place. Oh, how he missed Della’s piloting skills.  
  
On the plus and minus side, it would take them three days to reach the moon. That was plenty of time for sleep, which the entire group sorely needed. Since Launchpad didn’t live in the mansion and Donald lived on his houseboat outside of it, they wouldn’t need that much rest. Scrooge and the kids, on the other hand, could use all the sleep they could get. (He wondered whether Lena would take advantage of the empty mansion and get some sleep herself since Magica had attacked her dreams too).  
  
Since he feared Webby having nightmares, not to mention the boys after witnessing her stab someone, he’d taken a sleeping draught with him to prevent dreams. After they’d shuffled on board, they were too tired to fight him when he suggested they each take a swig. Buckling themselves in, they settled back. Scrooge swallowed the last few drops and yawned.  
  
It’d be pleasant to get some sleep without the thrice-damned nightmares hanging over his head. Webby had been having nightmares since her grandmother’s death, so she needed it more than anyone. He smiled fondly at her; she’d nestled up against Huey and Dewey. Louie was sitting next to Donald with Scrooge on the other side. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. Three days’ worth of sleep sounded heavenly. He just hoped that whatever awaited them was worth it.  
  
(Although, in actuality, they could’ve used the three days’ sleep regardless).  
  
Scrooge slipped into a dreamless sleep around the same time as the kids and smiled, his last thought of righting the wrongs that had been going on for so long in his family.  
  
\----  
  
While Donald didn’t normally like the idea of sleeping draughts, especially since they’d been made with magic, he condoned their use here. The boys were exhausted and Scrooge wasn’t much better. Webby was another level of drained and he found himself studying her. In a way, she was the fourth nephew. That made her his too. He smiled.  
  
Unbuckling himself once the rocket had achieved liftoff, he stroked Webby’s head feathers.  
  
“Sleep well, no dreams,” Donald said. “To all of you.”  
  
He glanced over at his uncle. “You too, you old palooka.”  
  
Thankfully, Donald had brought something to do during what was bound to be a very quiet trip. Of course, that assumed Launchpad didn’t try to fill the awkward silences with equally awkward conversation. Donald wouldn’t put it past him.  
  
He settled back in his seat, opened his newspaper, and glanced over at the boys. A trickle of doubt crept in. He’d raised them since they were hatched. In many ways, he was their parent. Would Della contest that? Would she want them back, completely hers? But...she couldn’t have them. They were his boys. She hadn’t seen them take their first steps, say their first words, or have any of the milestones that children had. She hadn’t been there for them; he had.  
  
Yes, Della was their mother, biologically. And he couldn’t take that away from her. However, she couldn’t take away from him that he was, by all rights, their surrogate father.  
  
He still didn’t know who their real father was, which he guessed he and Uncle Scrooge had in common. They’d have to ask her when they reached the moon. If she was there. If this wasn’t some elaborate hoax perpetrated by Glomgold.  
  
Donald saw more clearly than Scrooge sometimes Glomgold’s intentions. He knew that the other Scottish duck liked Scrooge’s attention, perhaps a bit too much. Then again, it was like that with all of Scrooge’s enemies. They all seemed to exude sexual tension. It made him question whether he knew all there was to know about his uncle and whether he even wanted to.  
  
No, he probably didn’t. If Uncle Scrooge was hiding a sordid past with Glomgold, Donald most assuredly did not want to know about it. That was a secret his uncle could take to his grave, as far as he was concerned.  
  
Of course, now that the idea was in his head, it was hard to discount. Great. He’d spend the entire trip wondering about his uncle’s proclivities. Just what he wanted. Awkward conversation and disgusting mental images. Ugh, why him…  
  
“I’ve never crashed a rocket before,” Launchpad said conversationally.  
  
“You’d better not crash this one,” Donald snapped. “I am not going to die because of you.”  
  
“Relax,” he said. “I’m the best pilot.”  
  
“When it comes to crashing, maybe,” Donald muttered. “Just don’t wake the others up, okay? They could use the rest.”  
  
“Got it,” Launchpad said. He glanced over at the kids and Scrooge. “They’ve had a rough few weeks, haven’t they?”  
  
“Yeah…” Donald said.  
  
“What exactly happened? Mr. McD didn’t fill me in completely.”  
  
“Some sort of mix up with a gang and Magica giving them nightmares before kidnapping them,” Donald said and scowled. He had been fast asleep at the time, else he would’ve stepped in and prevented their kidnapping. It felt odd, that it was all part of one extremely long night.  
  
Crap. He was tired too. He yawned. He’d just close his eyes for a minute.  
  
Launchpad was still talking and Donald pulled out earplugs to tune him out. He’d just sleep for a little bit. There was no way he was sleeping three days like the others planned to. Just a brief nap...that was it…  
  
\----  
  
Webby woke up disoriented, not sure where she was or why it felt like she was moving. Huey had his head on her shoulder and Dewey was curled up against her side. She smiled. On Dewey’s other side was Louie and on his other side were Donald and Scrooge. Louie was lying half on, half off the seat. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but everyone else was still asleep. Everyone...including Launchpad. She stifled a groan.  
  
“Launchpad!” she cried and the pilot jerked awake.  
  
“17!” he yelped. “I’m sorry, sir or madam, I did not mean to hit your car--”  
  
“Launchpad, wake up!” she cried. Man, she hoped this rocket had an auto-pilot. At her yelping, Scrooge woke up and scowled. He unbuckled himself and smacked Launchpad on the head with his cane. She was impressed he’d managed to figure out what was going on so quickly.  
  
“Curse me kilts, how long have you been asleep at the wheel?!” Scrooge snapped.  
  
“How long have we been in flight?” Launchpad said, sheepish.  
  
“How the blazes am I supposed to know that?” Scrooge demanded. “Don’t tell me you went to sleep when we did!”  
  
“There’s an auto-pilot,” Launchpad said, a tad defensive. “And this baby practically flies itself. All I needed to do was engage the auto-pilot and I just took a break to rest my eyes…”  
  
“ _How long were you asleep?!”_  he screeched, rousing the others.  
  
“Hang on, lemme check…” Launchpad said, shrinking under his employer’s scrutiny. “About...22 hours.”  
  
“ _You were sleeping for twenty-two hours?!_ ” Scrooge cried.  
  
“Hey, some people here were enjoying a nap,” Louie protested.  
  
Scrooge snarled, pushing Launchpad aside. “We’ve drifted off course. We should be bearing northwest and now we’re bearing northeast. It’ll add another twelve hours to our trip. Do I need to stay up and hit you every time you’re about to fall asleep?”  
  
Judging by the look on his face, he fully intended to do it, too.  
  
“At least we didn’t crash, right?”  
  
“Yes, thank goodness you didn’t murder us all,” Scrooge said darkly.  
  
“Hey, man, flying a ship is hard,” Launchpad argued. “I’m nowhere near as good as Della.”  
  
The triplets, Scrooge, and Donald froze. Scrooge said, in a would-be casual voice, “You knew me niece, did you?”  
  
“Oh, sure, Della and me go way back,” he said, oblivious to the fact he’d said something unusual. “We went to pilots’ school together.”  
  
Scrooge scrutinized him for a minute more before rapping his cane smartly on the instrumental panel. That was a mystery they’d leave for later. Webby added it to the list of questions they had for the female duck.  
  
“Donald, stay up and make sure this idiot doesn’t steer us off course again,” Scrooge said, disgusted. “Everyone else, we might as well stretch our legs before we try sleeping again.”  
  
Donald undid his straps and glanced over at his boys.  
  
“How did you sleep?” he asked, anxious.  
  
“Fine, Uncle Donald,” they answered in unison and then hissed. Webby knew they hated speaking in a chorus.  
  
“No nightmares from anyone?” he added and glanced over at Webby too. Webby frowned. She wasn’t Donald’s niece…  
  
“That sleeping cordial should’ve taken care of that,” Scrooge said briskly. “The color’s back in your cheeks.”  
  
“It’s not like we could’ve slept that well with Magica breathing down our necks,” Dewey pointed out. “I’ll take dreamless sleep over that.”  
  
“Aye, we all would, lad,” Scrooge agreed.  
  
“Maybe we should talk about what happened right before we left,” Dewey said, frowning.  
  
Webby hugged herself and Scrooge moved over to her to squeeze her shoulder. His previous irritation with Launchpad had vanished; then again, he’d never been as upset with his pilot as he’d been with the Bloodhound Gang. That rage had been truly terrifying.  
  
“Do you wanna talk about it, lass?” Scrooge asked. Webby shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to think about it. As far as she was concerned, she wanted to pretend it never happened. She hunched down in her seat.  
  
“You can’t keep it bottled up,” Huey said.  
  
She could remember the feel of the knife in her hand and the strength she’d summoned to punch through his sternum. She could also remember the blood spraying her in the face, the feel of it hot and thick, and the way it tasted when it flew into her mouth. Shuddering, she hugged herself.  
  
“Give her a little while,” Scrooge advised. “It just happened yesterday. She needs some time to decompress.”  
  
Webby gave Scrooge a grateful smile and he smiled back, tousling her hair.  
  
“Anyone wanna play ‘I Spy’ to pass the time?” Launchpad asked and Scrooge groaned.  
  
“You shouldn’t be spying anything out here besides what you’re supposed to be looking out for!” he admonished.  
  
“What about punch buggy?”  
  
“There shouldn’t be any Bugs out here either!”  
  
“Good ole Launchpad,” Dewey said and smiled. He lifted his head to look at Webby. “You okay?”  
  
“No,” she said in a small voice. It was more than she’d admitted to before and she surprised herself. “But I’ll manage.”  
  
She wasn’t sure that was true, but hey, fake it until you make it. That sounded like Lena’s motto. At the thought of the other girl, Webby’s heart clenched. What if she’d decided to abdicate the manor and leave Duckberg like she’d planned? What if she wasn’t at home waiting for them? Could she have abandoned her? Webby had left her; why not return the favor?  
  
“What’s wrong?” Dewey asked.  
  
“You don’t think Lena went anywhere, do you?” she burst out.  
  
“Give her the benefit of the doubt,” Scrooge advised. “She’s probably sleeping off Magica’s nightmares right now…”  
  
Louie looked like he wanted to argue with him and Scrooge gave him a warning look. Louie shrugged, stretching and glancing over at his brothers. His gaze met Webby’s and he smiled at her. She remembered, almost from another lifetime, him holding her in her sleep and saying, “I. Win.”  
  
Did he still think he was competing against Lena? Or was that how he saw things anyway? As a competition that he intended to win?  
  
Was Lena sleeping it off at the manor? They wouldn’t know for another two and a half days (it would’ve been two if Launchpad hadn’t been slumbering too) when they might be able to contact Earth. That assumed that Lena was awake and around to speak with them. Webby fretted; she was no longer exhausted and she wasn’t hallucinating, though she wondered whether she’d been thinking rationally for the last couple of weeks.  
  
Although, if she wasn’t sleeping well and making bad decisions, then no one else was either. That might’ve explained why she hadn’t remained in the manor and set this whole thing in motion…  
  
Louie stretched and cracked his knuckles. “Did you really think we were going to sleep for three days?”  
  
“I didn’t know how long you’d sleep,” Scrooge pointed out. “None of us have had any restful sleep for half a month now.”  
  
Dewey squeezed Webby’s hand and she squeezed back.  
  
“Hey, Launchpad, you don’t have any Darkwing Duck, do you?” Huey said and Dewey shot him a look of sheer betrayal.  
  
“Of course I do! Lemme get the DVD started!” Launchpad exclaimed.  
  
“Oh, great, more hero worship,” Scrooge muttered. “At least he’ll stay awake for this.”  
  
On the plus side, it’d take her mind off things. And she enjoyed the end theme, perhaps too much. Dewey groaned, facepalming, and released her hand.  
  
“Why…” he groaned. “I hate my life.”  
  
“I hate your life too,” Louie assured him.  
  
“Ugh,” Dewey said. “I’m not watching it.”  
  
“I’m not gonna make you, but I will give you scene by scene commentary and behind the scene tidbits,” Launchpad offered.  
  
“That’s even worse,” Dewey complained.  
  
“Hey, you can’t please everyone,” Launchpad said with a shrug.  
  
“Just don’t get so busy watching the show that you forget to pilot,” Scrooge warned.  
  
“I’ve got eyes like a hawk, Mister McDee,” he reassured him.  
  
“Aye, and the brains of a squirrel,” he muttered.  
  
\----  
  
Lena de Spell had spent almost an entire day sleeping. The McDuck Manor was pretty posh for a place with a dead butler. She had the run of the place, too, which might’ve been cool if it hadn’t felt so abandoned. Other than Duckworth, who wasn’t much for company, she had no one to talk to. Plus, after the first day had passed, she found herself growing bored. There was only so much TV and internet and spying a teenager could do.  
  
Plus, with Webby gone and Magica no longer attached to her, she had no real interest in the McDuck family lore. She did, however, have an interest in the criminal underground. Like she’d told Webby before, the chances were slim and none that the Bloodhound Gang and the other ne’er do wells would let such an insult stand. She intended to find out what was going on; of course, there was a chance she’d be recognized, as she’d threatened the leader too. However, they’d been drunk and high at the time and when she’d come to rescue Webby with the others, they’d been too preoccupied with escaping Webby’s vengeance to linger and get a second look.  
  
That didn’t mean that they hadn’t had time to reassess their situation and decide they wanted revenge. She grabbed the knife that Scrooge had so kindly given her, rolled her eyes at Gizmoduck’s contact info (if she needed that, the mission was already blown), and stepped out of the guest room she’d taken over, which was right next to Webby’s room. She touched Webby’s ribbon, still tied around her wrist, and pressed her beak together tightly. By the time they returned, she hoped to have this sorted out without Webby in any sort of danger. That might be a pipe dream, though.  
  
It occurred to her that since Scrooge had routed out the villains from the tunnels beneath the city, she might have difficulty locating the Bloodhound Gang. Magica had presumably slunk back to some hole in the ground; Lena doubted she’d stand trial or linger in town, not until she could reassert control or had a plan to accommodate the triplets, Webby, and Scrooge. That was one less problem and it was pleasant not to have to worry about nightmares from Magica, which was not to say Lena had no nightmares at all. They were less well-directed, but they came.  
  
Her aunt had such a flare for the dramatic that she ought to have been an actress. Lena rolled her eyes.  
  
No one apprehended her when she left the manor and she told herself she would come back to it. She wasn’t abandoning it for good. Nonetheless, as she stepped away from it, through the gates, and onto the street, she felt like she was yanking on a tether and snapping it in two. Maybe theatrics ran in the family. Jeez.  
  
Without any leads to go on, she’d have to head for one of the dens of ignominy that the villains frequented. Scrooge didn’t know them and she hadn’t informed him because she hadn’t learned exactly where they were until Magica had so kindly left her body and stopped possessing it. There was a great chance that the information was fifteen years out of date, but that was a chance she’d have to take. There were worse things to gamble on.  
  
One of the gambling dens, located on the far end of town, required a hike through the worst neighborhood. Again. Lena had opted to go during the day, since she figured her chances of getting robbed or held up at gunpoint might be reduced. Reduced, mind you, not gone completely. She wasn’t that foolish.  
  
Man, it sucked being a thirteen year old when you had to slink through the shadows and try to impress the adults, most of whom were grizzled crime veterans. She had a feeling anyone who recognized her would know her as “Magica’s brat niece”, which was not the reputation she wanted to foster. On the plus side, it might prevent people from messing with her, because they might assume she had the same powers as her aunt. However, once that assumption was laid to rest, she’d be in over her head.  
  
Maybe it wouldn’t come to that.  
  
She’d tried to live unobtrusively throughout her life. Magica had funded her attempts to go through boarding school up and until Lena demonstrably failed out of every single one. She wasn’t sure whether she was doing it to spite Magica or because her apathy overcame her desire to further herself. After the fifth such endeavour, Magica had given up the ghost and let her be. She still permitted Lena access to her funds, which prevented her from scrounging around on the streets and being a beggar, even if it didn’t exactly provide a lavish lifestyle. It was kinda funny--Magica had been obsessed for years with obtaining Scrooge’s number one dime and all of his wealth, but Magica had a fair amount of money and resources herself. It was more that the dime had symbolic and magical importance than that it meant anything literally.  
  
The gambling den had no bouncer, which struck her as ominous. They’d let any riffraff in and, once the smoke cleared, Lena saw the Beagle Boys trying their luck and failing miserably. She also saw Gladstone Gander trying his luck and winning too much. The regulars were growing restive. It was suspicious to win so much at once. They would assume he’d fixed the game rather than being naturally lucky. And there was only so much leeway with their money that convicts had before they turned on whoever was grabbing all of it. She’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t so naive.  
  
Gladstone was in a corner by the pool table. The Beagle Boys were nearest the front door and about to be heaved through it by the bouncer Lena had missed upon entering. The bouncer was drinking and she sidestepped to avoid his gaze. He was a big, burly dog, a mastiff type by the look of him, and Lena did not want to tangle with that. Even Webby might have difficulty besting someone like him.  
  
Smoke filled the air and irritated her lungs. It was cigarette smoke, no pot here, for which she was grateful. Still, spilled liquor competed with the smoke and her eyes watered. She squeezed between two high tables, pushed past another pool game in progress, and tried to find a corner where she could sit and observe. The haze that filled the room wasn’t conducive to people-watching.  
  
She could sit here all night and never see the Bloodhound Gang. She could barely see her hand in front of her face.  
  
The problem was that she didn’t look tough enough to run with anyone here. They’d see her as a kid and she didn’t have the skills to back it up like Webby did. Magica hadn’t bothered to waste her time teaching Lena self-defense or martial arts. Lena was a means to an end, nothing more.  
  
 _Thanks a ton to you too, Aunt Magica._  
  
Sighing, the breath aggravating her raw throat, she poked around at the various tables all the while appearing disinterested in them. To her consternation, known associates of Glomgold were here. The man himself wasn’t present, presumably on the moon awaiting Scrooge, Donald, and the kids. Well, awaiting Scrooge and Donald, at any rate. She doubted he’d figured the kids into it.  
  
She was glad Glomgold wasn’t here for another reason. He’d be one of Scrooge’s enemies to take her aside and guide her out of here and back toward home. She was not here to be babied.  
  
Unfortunately, she was starting to wonder why she was here. The Bloodhound Gang hadn’t materialized and she could wait all night to no avail. She didn’t trust anyone else to run reconnaissance for her and she didn’t know anyone else, save her aunt, who would have even wanted to. (And Magica would not have wanted to do anything that would assist Lena, no matter how small).  
  
She had five days to track down the Bloodhound Gang before the others made it back home. Rescuing Della, if that’s what this was, shouldn’t take longer than a few hours at the most. The gang might’ve disappeared before, but that was with Magica’s assistance. Magica wasn’t bothering to help them out this time).  
  
The reality was that she could stay here for five nights in a row and not get any intel. Duckberg was simply too large and the criminal population scared to rear their heads after Scrooge’s last towering rage. Of course, a lot of the criminal riffraff had ended up in prison during one of his raids, which should narrow the selection down a bit. She’d gotten lucky when she’d caught up to the Bloodhound Gang the last time. They’d been bloated on their own success and senseless to anyone attacking them.They wouldn’t be stupid like that again.  
  
There was another sad reality here. Lena was good at blending into the shadows, but that’d been with Magica’s aid. Alone, Lena was vulnerable. A young teenage girl alone by herself in the rough neighborhoods? She might as well drape a sign over her head that said, “Take me.”  
  
It wasn’t quite true that she had no help. Gizmoduck would come if summoned, but once he showed up, the party was over. No one was going to willingly stay and get busted by the police. Ugh, this had been such a stupid idea.  
  
But, wait. Wait a minute. Gladstone Gander was the luckiest duck in the world, right? She needed something to ensure her luck changed and she’d be able to track down her prey. Gladstone should be able to change her luck if she made it their luck, not hers alone.  
  
Unfortunately, her window of opportunity for that was closing. The bouncer, along with a few drunk and rowdy customers, were giving Gladstone the old heave-ho. Lena coughed, covering her face with her sleeve, and rushed out the door as fast as her legs could carry her. Her eyes still watered from the smoke and her throat smarted, but things could’ve been worse. No one had noticed her, no one whose attention could prove costly.  
  
No, the only person whose attention she wanted was standing right outside the Gluttonous Pig and holding a twenty dollar bill he’d found on the ground. She didn’t even know how he’d found it when the patrons here tended to be strapped for cash. Maybe he really was lucky.  
  
“Hey,” Lena said and then coughed. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m Donald’s honorary niece’s best friend and I need your help.”  
  
“That’s...a rather vague claim,” Gladstone said.  
  
“Well, it’s either that or I’m your uncle’s housekeeper’s granddaughter’s best friend,” she said. “Take your pick.”  
  
“Good point,” he said. “So, you’re Webby’s friend?”  
  
“If you want to be technical about it…” she said and rolled her eyes. “Can you help me or not?”  
  
“Depends. What do you need me to do? I am the luckiest duck in the world, after all.”  
  
And the humblest too.  
  
“I need you to find someone for me,” she said. “I don’t know their names, but if you’ve been hanging around these bars, you should be able to track them down…”  
  
“And what do I get for performing this service?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a personal favor to you? I gotta say, this supposed relationship between us is very thin.”  
  
“It’d help Scrooge McDuck a great deal,” she said and rolled her eyes again. “You’d be in his debt.”  
  
“In his debt, huh? All right. I’ll do it. Who are we looking for?”  
  
“Oh, you know, just a few cowards with a grudge. Easy stuff,” she lied. “I’ll explain it to you while we’re on the way there.”  
  
“On the way to where?” he asked, baffled.  
  
“Wherever you think we should go,” she said. This had better work. She had no other alternatives.


	5. The In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby has nightmares and Lena attempts to enlist Gladstone's help, except he isn't pleased when she keeps withholding key information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream is a little graphic, just to warn you. I had wanted to torture Webby--irl's been awful, so I was taking out my aggressions on her.

Webby hated to fall asleep now. She hated the nightmares that inevitably came. The nightmares grew confused too, sensations of the Bloodhound Gang intermixed with her stabbing the leader in the chest and her grandmother dying, along with Lena abandoning her. Sometimes, it’d happen all at once--the leader would be in the middle of his attack when she’d killed him and the blood soaked her from head to toe.  
  
She was having one of those dreams now, with blood everywhere, in her eyes, her hair, her face, and rendering her clothes sodden. Instead of scrambling back as she’d done in real life, the leader fell heavily upon her and, incredibly, continued, despite bleeding out on her. Webby screamed, unable to move now that he’d pinned her, and she felt eyes upon her. She turned her head to spy Lena a few feet away and pleaded with her with her eyes, as her beak seemed glued shut.  
  
“This is my fault,” Lena said. “I can’t help you. I’d only make it worse. I’m sorry.”  
  
Webby watched her best friend walk away from her as the bulldog kept moving. Webby drew breath to scream, but her beak was shut tight. In her head, she was screaming her name and pleading with Lena not to go. Lena remained deaf to her mental entreaties.  
  
Magica appeared, grinning maliciously and watching everything with her hand on Mrs. Beakley’s shoulder. Her grandmother stared dead-eyed at her, and another scream clawed its way up Webby’s throat. Her grandmother looked exactly as she had right after Magica had killed her, with that sizeable hole in her chest. Webby felt sick.  
  
“You brought it on yourself,” her grandmother whispered in Magica’s voice. Magica and Mrs. Beakley looked down, condemning her for failing to protect herself.  
  
“Lass, you’re having a nightmare,” Scrooge called out of nowhere. She didn’t see him, which baffled her. “You need to wake up.”  
  
Scrooge’s disembodied voice didn’t gel with the scene around her. She shuddered, searching for allies, and saw the triplets, appalled, five feet away and just watching her. None of them moved to help her. They were supposed to be her surrogate family and then, like Lena, they walked away. Webby burst into tears.  
  
“Webby, wake up!” It was Huey this time and he accompanied it with shaking her. The gentle shakes were an odd contrast to the thrusting and she faltered, confused. The dead man above her stopped too.  
  
“It’s just a nightmare,” Dewey said. “Wake up, Webs.”  
  
Webby struggled back to consciousness. When she opened her eyes, she saw the boys and Scrooge staring at her in consternation. No blood coated her body and no one was hurting her. Pulling her knees to her chest, she stared back. Her lower beak quivered.  
  
“I thought Magica was done giving us nightmares?” Dewey said.  
  
“Aye, she is, lad, but Webby has PTSD,” Scrooge said and stroked her hair. “Hey. You’re not there. You’re here. With us. Do you remember?”  
  
“I’m sorry…” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you guys up and scare you. The only time I can sleep is with that cordial…”  
  
“Then we’ll need to get more,” Scrooge said. He frowned at her. “You shouldn’t be sorry. None of this is your fault.”  
  
“That’s what Lena said,” Webby replied, staring down at the floor. “Lena blamed herself.”  
  
“It’s not her fault either,” Scrooge said. “She didn’t plan any of this.”  
  
Webby continued staring at the floor. The boys were on either side of her and Dewey held her hand. He interlaced their fingers and her heart thudded. She was pretty sure she was in love with Lena, or at least infatuated with her, but sometimes her emotions got away from her. She wasn’t used to being around so many people and her heart did strange things around Louie and Dewey.  
  
“You slept better when I was holding you,” Louie said and then shrugged. “If you wanted to try that again.”  
  
“I don’t really want to go back to sleep right away,” she muttered. Dewey squeezed her hand and she saw nothing but compassion and love reflected in his gaze, as well as everyone else’s. Even Launchpad was staring at her in concern...and he probably should’ve been looking out at the viewscreen and paying attention to the controls.  
  
“We could always watch--” Huey suggested and Dewey and Louie gave him dirty looks. Webby’s lips twitched. She wasn’t as tired as she’d been and she felt safe, surrounded by her family. She missed her grandmother something fierce and she wished Lena were here, but she felt, if not completely at peace, close to it. The boys and Uncle Scrooge would keep the forces at bay. They loved her.  
  
“Are we almost there?” she asked, in an attempt to change the subject.  
  
“Another twelve hours,” Scrooge said and his expression darkened. “We’d be there already if Launchpad hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel.”  
  
“Everyone else was sleeping,” Launchpad said defensively.  
  
“But no one else was flying the ship!” Scrooge remarked, slamming his cane down. “Sometimes, I don’t know why I pay you so much when you’re more trouble than you’re worth!”  
  
Launchpad demurred and the two adults devolved into an argument. It took the attention off her, for which she was grateful. The boys, however, continued to regard her. Was it PTSD? Was that what made her think that everyone she loved would abandon her and that the events she’d witnessed would combine to worsen everything? It could be. She wondered if the boys had a form of it from seeing her kill someone.  
  
But there was no artifice in their gazes, nothing to suggest that their concern was misplaced or false. Webby’s heart clenched.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dewey asked in a small voice. “It might make you feel better. Uncle Donald always used to talk to us after our nightmares.”  
  
At this, she glanced over at Donald, who might’ve been feigning sleep. Since she’d woken everyone else up, she doubted he’d slept through it. His left eyelid lifted and he winked at her. Apparently, he was just trying to avoid the row between his uncle and Launchpad. Webby smiled weakly back.  
  
Webby shook her head at them and her throat tightened.  
  
“Offer’s still open,” Louie said.  
  
“You don’t have to give us all the details,” Dewey added. “Just enough so we can make you feel better.”  
  
“You know what I dreamt about,” she murmured, unable to meet anyone’s gaze now. “It was all mixed up.”  
  
“Hey,” Huey said gently, lifting her chin up. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Uncle Scrooge found the Bloodhound Gang before we left and without them, no one else is going to come after you. You’re safe now.”  
  
Webby might’ve believed him if not for the telltale twitch Scrooge gave at his grandnephew's words. One for two, then. Then again, Scrooge hadn’t had enough time to track them down again. The only person she could think of who might want to do that would be Lena, but Lena wouldn’t risk her neck for that, would she? Webby’s stomach clenched again, worrying that yes, in fact, she might attempt it as a way to redeem herself.  
  
Huey hadn’t missed Scrooge’s flinch either.  
  
“By the time we get back, we won’t have to worry about it,” he said and she wasn’t sure even he believed himself.  
  
“Lena said that the underground villains might want to attack me for killing their leader,” Webby said in a small voice.  
  
“You’d think they’d be afraid of you instead,” Dewey muttered. He was still holding her hand and she could feel his heartbeat against her palm. She had an odd, sudden desire to kiss him, for at least trying to comfort her.  
  
“Man, you’re so badass, you’d think everyone would be afraid of you,” Louie added and Webby beamed at him.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll all work out,” Huey soothed. She wondered how often he’d done this with his brothers to calm them down after nightmares.  
  
The moon loomed larger in the viewport and the triplets fell silent. Dewey removed his hand from hers and she knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking. Somewhere on the moon was their mother. Webby would have to put aside her trauma and face this with them because they needed her. They might not say it aloud, but she knew they did. She intended to be there for them.  
She just hoped Lena didn’t do anything stupid while they were gone…  
  
\----  
  
  
“You have to learn how to game the system,” Gladstone said. “And the first way to do that is to be in the right place at the right time.”  
  
Lena said nothing. He’d been insufferable the entire day and offering these stupid tidbits. Maybe they worked for him, but they did nothing for her. Anxiety clawed at her and she kept rubbing Webby’s ribbon on her wrist as if she could summon her by thinking of her. On the other hand, she didn’t want to summon her, not if the Bloodhound Gang was out there waiting to attack her.  
  
“So, these people you want me to find,” he said, eating a hot dog and guiding her past several disasters with aplomb--she ended up getting splashed with bird crap while he walked away unscathed. She was starting to resent him.  
  
“You never told me about them,” he said. Lena tugged at her sweater and used it to clean off the bird crap. Now it needed to be washed. Ugh.  
  
Lena frowned. She had to find a delicate way to phrase this because if she told him the full truth, he’d probably walk away from her. Unconsciously, she rubbed her wrist again. Webby…  
  
“They’re, you know, criminals,” she said and shrugged. “They attacked Webby and got away with it. Scrooge hasn’t been able to track them down.”  
  
There, that ought to be enough of the truth to satisfy him. Unfortunately, she had to turn her face away when she said it because the rage that rose within her thinking of what they’d done was impossible to hide. She still remembered seeing the leader inch up Webby’s skirt and she shook in anger, balling her fists at her sides. How dare they.  
  
“There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” he said. “Besides, I’ve seen Webby in action. That girl doesn’t take abuse lying down.”  
  
He frowned. “Lena, was it? I’m not going to help you if you won’t tell me the whole truth.”  
  
Lena bristled.  
  
“I told you the truth,” she said. “Webby was attacked and they got away with it. Now Scrooge can’t find them.”  
  
“How did they get the drop on her?” he asked, suspicious.  
  
“They held her at gunpoint,” Lena said and her nails dug into her palms. “Look, are you going to help me or not?”  
  
“I still think there’s something you’re not telling me, kid,” he snapped. “I may be lucky, but I’m not stupid.”  
  
Could’ve fooled her. She was working on controlling her temper. Gladstone’s twenty questions combined with her already taut nerves were making a potent mix. It was a good thing she didn’t have access to Magica’s magic. Something might’ve exploded by now.  
  
Of course, if she’d had her magic, she could’ve just zapped herself to wherever the gang was and wouldn’t have needed to use Gladstone in the first place.  
  
Lena had to figure out how to approach this without losing her temper. She counted to ten in her head and tried not to think of how Magica would’ve needled her. It was hard when she knew her aunt would’ve taken advantage of her mood and worsened it if she didn’t end up berating and verbally abusing her. Lena gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t keep Gladstone’s attention for long if she didn’t give him something to go on.  
  
“The Bloodhound Gang teamed up with my aunt, Magica, to kidnap Webby and the triplets,” she said, wondering just how much she had to tell him before he stopped being an ass. “Like I said, the first time they met Webby, they attacked her. They assaulted her…”  
  
“Look at me,” he said, unconsciously reflecting Webby’s prior command. Lena jerked her head back at him and anger burned in her. Webby could order her around, although Lena would prefer she didn’t do it very often. Gladstone doing it was irritating and reminded her of Magica.  
  
“It wasn’t a normal assault, was it?”  
  
“Why the hell does that matter?” Lena burst out. “What does it matter how they hurt her? They hurt her, okay? She was bleeding and roughed up when we found her and they would’ve done it again if Webby hadn’t stabbed their leader in the chest.”  
  
“Woah, woah. You mean they’re out for revenge?” he said. “You didn’t tell me that.”  
  
“They deserved what they got,” Lena spat. She could feel Magica’s influence within her rising and this time didn’t bother to suppress it. Maybe she wasn’t the best influence on Webby. Maybe she had darkness within her clamoring to be released. But these assholes had hurt someone she loved. As far as she was concerned, getting stabbed was too good for them. They would’ve gang-raped Webby if they could’ve gotten away with it.  
  
“Your eyes are glowing…” Gladstone said, taking a step back.  
  
“I’m not sure this is something that I want to be mixed up in,” he said, retreating.  
  
“Scrooge has been looking for them. As I said, he wants them found and thrown in jail,” she said and thought,  _If not worse. He’d probably like a stab at them himself._  
  
“And you were going to look for them yourself?” he asked. “Before your eyes started glowing, I would’ve thought you were crazy.”  
  
“I wasn’t having any luck,” she said pointedly.  
  
“So you wanted to cash in on mine.” He gave her a hard look that she returned. Did family really mean so little to him that he’d throw Webby to the sharks? True, Webby wasn’t technically his family, but she was as good as, wasn’t she? Lena maintained her glower.  
  
“I’ll find them for you, but after that, you’re on your own.”  
  
“You’re going to leave a thirteen-year-old girl alone with child rapists,” Lena said flatly. “You’re unbelievable.”  
  
“You didn’t...you…” For a second, it appeared she’d flummoxed him. Gladstone gaped, glare gone and replaced by sheer shock. If she’d clubbed him over the head, she would’ve gotten the same reaction.  
  
“You said they assaulted her!” he protested, outraged.  
  
“And you wanted more details,” she rejoined, unrepentant. “Fine. Point me to them. I’ll take care of them on my own.”  
  
“Oh, no,” he said. “Now I’m honor bound not to let you do that. Christ, kid, what are you thinking?”  
  
“I’m thinking,” she snapped, “that I don’t want them anywhere near Webby ever again. I’m thinking that the longer they’re out there, on the loose, the greater the chance that they’ll find someone to put a hit on her because she killed their leader. And I’m thinking that unless I want to try to scour the city for the next five days looking for them to no avail, I need your help.”  
  
“You’re serious.”  
  
Lena wanted to bash his face in with a brick. She was so angry right now it was hard to think straight. If she alienated him, she’d have to go it alone. She was shaking from the effort of keeping herself from screaming at him.  
  
“Isn’t this something the cops should be involved in?” he asked.  
  
“The cops can’t find them,” she said from her clenched beak. “And neither can Scrooge. But you’re lucky. You find whatever you’re looking for when you’re looking for it.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to lead you into danger,” he objected.  
  
One...two...three...Lena was not mastering her temper very well. She could hear Magica in her head exhorting her to hurt him.  
  
“I’m not asking you to hand me to them,” she said and resisted the urge to punch him. The darkness rose within her and she could feel it choking her. Magica wasn’t in command, but her suffocating evil mounted. Only her fingers on Webby’s ribbon kept her from slamming him against a nearby building.  
  
“So, what, we find them and then we call the cops?” he asked. “Or we tell the cops we’re going in and then they follow us?”  
  
“One of those, yes,” she said. “Are you going to help me or not?”  
  
“I’ll help you,” he promised. “Jeez, kid, those eyes are freaky.”  
  
“I’m Magica’s niece,” she snapped. “What the hell did you expect? Normalcy?”  
  
Perhaps wary of offending her, he didn’t reply. Then again, she was enraged and he was the closest target. It was prudent for him to keep his mouth shut and lead on. Lena wished she had somewhere she could let loose and someone she could hurt. It was hard when she kept seeing the gang attack Webby and know how it must’ve gone down.  
  
“Scrooge doesn’t want these people handed to the cops, does he?” Gladstone said a few minutes later, interrupting Lena’s brooding and causing her to punch a wall in irritation. It did nothing, save hurt her hand, and she grimaced at the pain.  
  
“I don’t know,” she said. She wished he’d shut up. She wished she had the power to force him to be quiet, too.  
  
A few more minutes passed and the next time it looked like he was about to open his mouth, he closed it again. Lena was back to counting to ten in her head and, when that didn’t work, thinking of how sweet and caring Webby was. How much Webby loved her, even if Lena knew she didn’t deserve it. Especially because she knew that she didn’t deserve it. Webby had been so pure and innocent. Fierceness rose in Lena’s chest at the thought of the gang taking that away from her.  
  
Her Webby. Her beautiful, naive, adorable Webby. She remembered the tingle of her beak against hers. She loved her and she would make this right, one way or another. She would redeem herself in Webby’s eyes.  
  
It didn’t occur to her that this was exactly what Webby didn’t want. As far as Lena was concerned, she was disposable. Webby wasn’t. Magica had taught her that lesson over and over--she was only useful as a pawn. Otherwise, she was worthless.  
  
She still thought Webby was better off without her, but she wouldn’t vocalize that again. The anguish it’d caused her was too fresh. But this she could do for her. And maybe if she helped her, Lena would find some self-worth of her own.  
  
Thirteen years abused by Magica, verbally and emotionally. Lena glanced over at Gladstone. She was glad she could milk him for his family loyalty because as far as Lena was concerned, a family was nothing but trouble.


	6. Imperfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby, the triplets, Donald, and Scrooge make it to the moon in one piece and meet Della. Meanwhile, back in Duckburg, Lena is starting to rethink her partnership with Gladstone Gander.

Twelve hours later, they’d landed. They used a rover to reach Glomgold’s base and although Webby still felt off-kilter, she didn’t say anything. Besides, the boys were talkative enough to compensate for her. For once, she was content to fade into the background. The tension and worry were too high for them to notice her quietness.  
  
She knew she ought to be excited about this too. After all, it wasn’t every day she happened upon making McDuck history. She wanted to be thrilled to bits and chattering along with the others, but it felt like a heavy weight had descended upon her and was dragging her down into the dark side of the moon. She stared out the window of the RV-like contraption to avoid looking at anyone else.  
  
It took them another hour to reach Glomgold Industries’ base and everyone climbed out, with Launchpad again warned against crashing their transportation and leaving them stranded. Scrooge didn’t seem convinced by Launchpad’s reassurances. Under the circumstances, Webby didn’t blame him.  
  
It resembled Scrooge’s operations and looked identical, actually, which surprised her. Maybe Scottish billionaires/trillionaires thought alike. Workers ushered them into a private meeting room, where Glomgold was sitting behind a luxurious desk. Sitting directly in front of him was a figure out of legend. Webby’s jaw dropped and she squeaked. The boys dove on their mother and knocked the chair over in the process.  
  
Scrooge and Donald, however, remained standing, both looking suspicious. While the boys rambled excitedly, asking questions and demanding explanations, Scrooge approached the desk and his gaze was sharp, cutting. Donald was right behind him.  
  
Feeling out of sorts, because this wasn’t her mother, Webby stepped back. She was a member of the family, right? But this wasn’t her family reunion. She understood why Lena had felt ostracized before.  
  
“Why are you doing this, Glomgold?” Scrooge asked. “You’re not known for doing things out of the goodness of your heart.”  
  
“I was excavating on the dark side of the moon and trying to set up signal towers when I ran into your niece,” Glomgold said with a shrug. “Thought you might miss her.”  
  
“You ‘thought I might miss her’?” Scrooge snapped. “It’s been ten years. You mean to tell me you’ve known she was there all this time and didn’t bother to inform me?”  
  
His hand was tight on his cane and it creaked in protest.  
  
“Webs,” Louie called and Webby jerked her head toward the boys. They were gesturing for her to join them, and, feeling nonetheless like the odd duck out, she headed for them. The boys wrapped her in a hug that also included their mother.  
  
“And this is our sister, Webby,” Huey said.  
  
“Sister?” Della repeated.  
  
“I’m not actually related to them,” Webby hastened to add. “I’m more like their honorary sister. So don’t worry. You didn’t have four children, just three boys.”  
  
Della still looked baffled.  
  
“We’ll explain the whole thing later,” Huey promised. Webby glanced over at the two Scottish ducks, who were arguing loudly now and gesticulating with their canes. Donald was getting into the fray too, punctuating his retorts with punching his arm in the air and devolving into gibberish because he was so upset. Webby wasn’t following half of what he was saying.  
  
“I didn’t know she was here for ten years!” Glomgold snapped. “Do you really think I’m that cruel, that I’d keep her from you for so long? I know you almost went bankrupt trying to find her. But this is the thanks I get for finding your niece?”  
  
“How long have you known she was here?” Scrooge demanded, slamming his cane on the floor.  
  
“I told you--I called you as soon as I knew,” Glomgold retorted. Webby frowned. Glomgold was lying.  
  
“You expect me to believe you just happened upon Della after you’ve spent all this time building this facility on the moon and you didn’t discover her until three days ago?” he growled. “Something’s not adding up.”  
  
“All right, so maybe I knew she was here for a bit longer than several days,” Glomgold said. “But I had to think of my investments.”  
  
“How. Long. Did. You. Know.” Scrooge bit off every word.  
  
“Forget your investments!” Donald yelled. “What about my sister?”  
  
“Donald, I’m okay,” Della said. However, he and Uncle Scrooge were too fired up to pay her any mind. Della’s arms tightened around her boys.  
  
“I’ve known for six months,” Glomgold admitted. “But I had a devil of a time getting any word back to you anyway. The signal kept vanishing and it was almost like someone was interfering with it. Don’t go yellin’ at me, Scrooge. I did my best. I don’t owe you anything.”  
  
Scrooge, who had been frustrated over Webby’s situation, Magica’s attack, and the lack of sleep for the last fortnight, looked like he wanted to beat the crap out of his rival. His eyes flashed and he was visibly restraining his anger. He was so angry he was grinding his teeth and Della, the boys, and Webby all took a step back. Scrooge was intimidating them, except for maybe Donald. Glomgold faltered.  
  
“It’s nothing personal, Scroogie,” he added, seeing the homicidal gleam in the other old man’s gaze. “I just--”  
  
“You just  _what_? Thought you’d lord it over me?” Scrooge said dangerously.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge, I’m sorry--” Della started and he raised his cane to silence her. The boys all frowned and Webby knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. He hadn’t had a chance to pay the Bloodhound Gang back and here, at last, was a target Scrooge could actually hit.  
  
“I did no such thing!” Glomgold said. “I just had other priorities than tellin’ you that your niece was here! You understand. You’re a businessman.”  
  
“I would never put my business above my family,” Scrooge snapped, his voice shaking. “Everyone, out. I don’t want there to be any witnesses.”  
  
“Witnesses to what?” Glomgold said and, perhaps provoked too far, Scrooge punched him in the face. He dove on top of him and what followed involved them rolling around on the office floor while Donald herded everyone out of the office. He closed the door behind him and sighed.  
  
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Uncle Scrooge so enraged,” Huey said.  
  
“It  _has_  been a bad month,” Dewey pointed out. “I guess he finally snapped.”  
  
“Della…” Donald said softly and she turned to look at him. “What happened?”  
  
Banging came from the door and they jumped, startled. Donald grabbed a chair from the receptionist (who looked nonplussed at having it yanked right from under her) and jammed it under the doorknob. Even through the thick wooden door, they could hear Scrooge railing at Glomgold. Webby winced. She would not want to be him right now.  
  
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to lock them in there?” Dewey asked.  
  
“No, but it’s better than being inside,” Donald replied.  
  
“The Spear got swept up in the cosmic storm. I wound up drifting for a while...for years, actually. I got supplies from the creatures that live here, but I’ve been stranded on the dark side of the moon for a long time,” Della replied. “And Glomgold did find me six months ago; he wasn’t lying about that. But I guess he forgot about me when he was building his real estate here.”  
  
“That’s no excuse,” Donald snapped and Della flinched. “I meant Glomgold. Not you.”  
  
“No, what I did has no excuse,” she replied. “I left my babies behind. Have you…?”  
  
She trailed off, uncertain how to put it.  
  
“Yeah, I raised them,” Donald remarked quietly. “That’s what you would’ve wanted, isn’t it?”  
  
Della nodded, eyes full of tears, and hugged her brother tightly. The boys latched on to both of them and Webby stood apart, feeling awkward again. Part of her was incredulous to find Della Duck here, in the flesh. The other part, the larger part, was going numb. The boys had found their mother. Webby still didn’t know what had happened to her parents.  
  
“You’re part of the family too, you know,” Donald said to her. “We’re all one big family.”  
  
“You never explained who she is,” Della said, wiping at her eyes. Huey handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at the tears.  
  
“I’m Webby,” Webby said, subdued. “My granny--” she choked up for a second--”was Uncle Scrooge’s housekeeper until Magica killed her. Now I’m Uncle Scrooge’s ward.”  
  
“Magica?” Della said sharply. “She returned?”  
  
They nodded.  
  
“It sounds like we have a lot to catch up on,” Della said. “Maybe we should go somewhere?”  
  
The banging continued behind them. Scrooge was still screaming at Glomgold, who was yelling back. Della glanced at Donald.  
  
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Please don’t tell me this is going to end the way it always does.”  
  
“I don’t wanna think about it,” Donald said flatly. “I already thought about it on the way here and that was more time than I’d ever wanted to spend thinking about Uncle Scrooge in that way.”  
  
“How does it usually end?” Dewey asked, baffled.  
  
“You don’t want to know,” Della and Donald replied in unison. They smiled at each other and Della ushered them into a private meeting room and closed the door. Once they were inside, the screams were considerably muffled and although Webby was as curious as the boys as to “how this normally ended”, she didn’t ask. She had a feeling that she too didn’t want to know.  
  
\----  
  
After being trailed, literally, by Magica for years, Lena le Strange/de Spell knew when she was being stalked. Gladstone seemed oblivious to their pursuer, but Lena was on guard. It conspired that the Bloodhound Gang did not want to be found. Or, rather, they wanted to be the ones doing the finding. Magica must’ve told them something about her niece to compel their interest; either that or they knew that she was linked to Webby, which marked Lena as a troublemaker.  
  
Sometimes, the ties between them gave her whiplash. The Gang hated her because she was Webby’s known accomplice. She was Webby’s known accomplice because Aunt Magica had forced her to be. The Bloodhound Gang had only attacked Webby because Magica had killed Mrs. Beakley, which she wouldn’t have been able to do if Lena had stayed away in the first place. In a way, Lena’s new “friends” were the punishment she deserved for bringing this all crashing onto Webby’s head. She didn’t say that, though. Lately, whenever she’d vocalized such doubt or self-hatred, someone soundly rebuked her.  
  
She tensed and then ducked as someone swung a bat at her head. Stumbling, she backed into Gladstone, who held up his hands in a disarming gesture.  
  
“Hey, hey, we’re all friends here,” Gladstone said. “We’re just looking for someone.”  
  
“Yes, us,” came the reply as the three remaining Bloodhound Gang members slunk out of the shadows from a nearby bar. Was this luck? True, she’d wanted to find them, but she hadn’t wanted the situation reversed. The Gang had the upperhand.  
  
“At what point are you lucky?” Lena hissed at Gladstone. “Because this seems more like the opposite.”  
  
“You wanted to find them,” he reminded her.  
  
“But not the other way around!” she snapped. The three members had a gun and two knives between them. Lena was mildly pleased to see that the injuries Webby had inflicted on them hadn’t healed. She was proud of her.  
  
“We have a message for your little friend,” one of the dogs said. He was the one Webby had marked with deep gouges down his face. Lena smiled. He hadn’t been pretty to begin with, but he was markedly less attractive now.  
  
“We have a message for you too,” Gladstone said and she mentally facepalmed. She wasn’t sure whether this was arrogance born of a lifetime of luck or just plain stupidity. Right now, she was thinking it was a combination of the two.  
  
“Scrooge McDuck is coming after you,” he said.  
  
Why, exactly, did Gladstone think they cared about that? Scrooge wasn’t in Duckberg at the moment and if even if he were, she doubted the threat would hold much sway with them.  
  
“Please tell me you know how to fight,” Lena said in an undertone. “Or have a back-up plan that doesn’t involve name-dropping.”  
  
“Good,” the scarred bulldog said. “Then he can watch when we kill his little niece.”  
  
One of the dogs holding a knife turned to regard Lena and she stiffened under their gaze. He was giving her an assessing look, like the one he’d given Webby, and she knew that they had a “type”. Pre-pubescent and pubescent girls. Lovely. Lena’s throat tightened.  
  
She didn’t feel particularly safe with Gladstone around, either. Luck had to run out sooner or later.  
  
“You’re Magica de Spell’s niece, ain’t you?” he said.  
  
“Yeah, so?” she said, attempting nonchalance.  
  
“Think she’d care if something happened to you?” he continued and Lena stopped herself before retreating another step. She didn’t want to be seen giving ground to these assholes.  
  
“That’s out of line,” Gladstone snapped.  
  
The criminal flicked a gaze at him before returning to leer at Lena. Lena resisted the temptation to hug her shirt to her.  
  
“No, not really,” she answered. “She’s not exactly thrilled with me right now.”  
  
The newfound leader, Mr. Scar she was calling him, smirked. “We’ll keep that in mind, then.”  
  
Wow, the creeper vibes coming off these jerks was unreal. They hadn’t touched her and yet, she felt like she’d been violated. It sickened her and made her even more fiercely protective over Webby.  
  
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Gladstone snapped, putting a hand on Lena’s shoulder. Lena resisted the temptation to shove him into the nearest dumpster. Aside from a few people, she did not like being touched. Webby and the boys were all right, Scrooge was a little iffy, but anyone else had better think twice about it.  
  
“It means to watch your step, pretty boy,” the leader sneered and they receded into the shadows from whence they’d come. Lena was surprised to find that Gladstone was staring at her curiously and with a touch of concern.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asked.  
  
“I’ve been worse,” she said with a shrug. “Could you take your hand off me?”  
  
“Sorry,” he said.  
  
“We didn’t find their hideout,” she said, annoyed. “But following them into the darkness is a good way to get attacked.”  
  
“But you know they hang out around here now,” he pointed out. “That’s enough for Scrooge, isn’t it?”  
  
“I guess…” she said. She’d had visions of apprehending the Gang before the others returned. Gladstone must’ve seen something of this on her face because he glowered and she took a step back. Despite her surliness with Mrs. Beakley, angry adults tended to set off alarm bells. It usually signified something unpleasant in the offing.  
  
“You can’t possibly apprehend them. That’s a job for the police.”  
  
“I did fine without your help before,” she snapped back. “I’ll be fine now.”  
  
“Where are you living?”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked. If she’d been a dog, her hackles would’ve been up. She was feeling defensive as fuck and did not appreciate his tone. As far as she was concerned, the only one with any right to act paternal toward her was her father and he’d flown the coop years ago.  
  
“If you don’t have a place to stay…” he said.  
  
“Sorry, I don’t hang out with people who could be my father,” she shot back. She half expected Magica to materialize then and torment her. “And I have a place. McDuck Manor. I don’t need your pity.”  
  
“You’re pretty prickly considering you asked me for help,” he retorted. “I don’t want you wandering around here with pedophiles.”  
  
He was worried. About her. He wasn’t angry at her and about to hit her or verbally abuse her. He was genuinely concerned. Lena was at a loss. She didn’t tend to think about her well-being; it became second-nature to care about her well-being only when it affected Magica. Now that she was on her own, she was concerned with Webby and helping her. She still didn’t think she mattered.  
  
“What does it matter to you?” she asked and her tone was uncertain.  
  
“It matters to me because you’re a kid and I’m trying to look out for you.”  
  
That didn’t explain it, not in her mind. Unable to compose a decent reply, she changed the subject.  
  
“We should be heading back. It’s getting late.”  
  
“I’ll drive you,” he said and his gaze was stern. “You’re not walking through these streets on your own.”  
  
Lena’s mouth dropped and she closed it quickly. “Th-thanks.”  
  
“So, you’re Magica de Spell’s niece,” he said as he walked her to his car. “How’s she doing these days?”  
  
“Evil. Bitchy. Defeated.”  
  
“I grew up with her,” he said in an offhand tone. “She was trying to usurp my good luck once and fell for me. Can you believe that?”  
  
“Not really,” she said.  
  
“It was a while ago,” he assured her. “Before you were born.”  
  
“In the dinosaur ages,” she muttered.  
  
“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” he said.  
  
“That’s because she was my shadow for thirteen years and manipulated me into getting her body back a month ago,” she answered.  
  
“Oh. I see.”  
  
“Yeah. She’s a manipulative bitch,” she said and stared down at her lap as they sat down in the car. “Cruel and malicious. The whole nine yards.”  
  
“Did she...raise you?” he asked, confused. “You didn’t mention your parents.”  
  
Lena laughed humorlessly. “If you can call it parenting.”  
  
Rather than look at Gladstone, she stared out the window. Their surroundings passed by in a blur and she’d tensed up. She kept expecting Magica to materialize as her shadow again and then soundly reprimand her for speaking ill of her. She’d probably follow it up with the verbal and emotional abuse that she was so fond of.  
  
How the hell could Magica have had any softness, let alone enough to like someone romantically? It boggled Lena’s mind.  
  
They arrived at McDuck Manor and he handed her a business card.  
  
“You’re going to go after them,” he said. “I know your type. Call me when you’re going and I’ll go with you.”  
  
“Why?” she said, tempted to crumple up the card.  
  
“Call it part of the favor,” he said. “And a way to make up for how Magica treated you.”  
  
“Whatever,” she said, shrugging as she opened the door. She didn’t know how to respond, again. The unexpected kindness was making her wonder where the catch was.  
  
“There’s no catch, Lena,” he added. “But don’t go after them without me, okay?”  
  
Lena glanced down at the card and then up at him. Well, she could use the extra luck, she supposed.  
  
“Okay,” she said. It wasn’t such a difficult thing to promise, after all. And if Gladstone was going to help her out, she’d figure out his angle while he was doing it. Everyone had an angle. No one did anything expecting nothing.  
  
Except maybe Webby. Lena touched Webby’s ribbon about her wrist as she made her way back up the road toward the Manor. She couldn’t believe how much she missed the younger girl. Magica had been right. She’d fallen in love with her. She was fortunate that Webby wasn’t the type to take advantage of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby exhibits depression again, Louie kisses her, and we find out some of why Lena didn't answer Webby's phone call earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same author's note as the others. Things are unsettled around here, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep to my normal schedule of updating. I will try to update on Saturdays, assuming I can get the time to do that.

It took nearly an hour for Scrooge to reappear, his clothes askew and several bruises on his face that hadn’t been there before. He refused to answer questions about what had transpired before and, seeing as Della had refrained from giving the whole truth while her uncle was preoccupied, his reappearance compelled her to speak it. Webby felt like she ought to be taking notes; her old self would’ve been. Instead, she stared at the controls leading to Earth. Lena hadn’t answered the call yet. She worried that something had happened in their absence.  
  
Gyro answered, fielding their questions and being very pleased with how the rocket ship had handled itself. Webby’s stomach tied itself in knots as she waited through Gyro’s tedious boasts and inquiries. Dewey approached her and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled weakly back.  
  
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said.  
  
“You wanna go to your mom,” Webby whispered back. She could sense his agitation at being separated from her; of all of them, only Louie seemed immune. He was watching their mother warily as if she might vanish on them again. Maybe if she talked to him, she wouldn’t feel so alone. Or at least, she’d have something else to focus on.  
  
She walked with Dewey so that he didn’t feel like he was abandoning her and then headed for the corner of the room, where Louie was standing with his arms folded across his chest.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly.  
  
“Not feeling the scene either, huh?” he said quietly. Dewey and Huey were clustered around Della, along with Donald and Scrooge. No one seemed to notice their hanging back.  
  
“I don’t know what happened to my parents,” she murmured. A little louder, she said, “But why aren’t you over there? I mean, she’s your mom.”  
  
“And she left us to take the  _Spear of Silene,_ ” he replied, careful not to speak too loudly lest they attract unwanted attention. “She left us to Donald to raise us. Donald’s more my dad than she’s my mom.”  
  
“That’s how I feel about Granny,” she said and then winced, amending her statement. “How I felt about her. Like I said, I don’t know what happened to my parents. Granny never mentioned it and now I guess she never will…”  
  
“I’m a con man,” he said and reached for her hand to hold. She let him have it and he interlaced their fingers. “I know a grift when I see it. And Mom’s not telling the whole story. Something is going on with her and Glomgold...not like that. You know what I mean.”  
  
“What’s bothering you?” he asked.  
  
“Lena never answered her call…” Webby said and gnawed her lower beak. “I hope nothing happened to her.”  
  
Louie shrugged. “Maybe she’s not home.”  
  
“But if she’s not home, then where could she be?” she asked.  
  
“Beats me,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “You know, I wouldn’t do that.”  
  
“Wouldn’t do what?” she asked, confused.  
  
“Wouldn’t leave you hanging high and dry like that,” he said. Something Lena had said earlier clicked. Lena had said that the boys, at least two of them, had crushes on her. Huey was preoccupied and didn’t catch her eye, but Dewey was staring daggers at his younger brother.  
  
“Am I some sort of contest for you?” she said, yanking her hand away.  
  
“No, no, not at all,” he reassured her. “I’m just saying--you have other options.”  
  
“And I’m going to abandon Lena at the drop of a hat because you think you’re better for me?” she countered.  
  
“She could’ve already done the same to you. She has. Twice.”  
  
“She left because she thought she was hurting me!” she protested. “That’s different!”  
  
“And she did hurt you. By leaving. And compounded it by leaving again. Plus, she used you to get to Uncle Scrooge and his lucky dime,” he said.  
  
“That wasn’t her fault,” she retorted. “She was under Magica’s influence. She didn’t want to.”  
  
“She wasn’t under her influence when she up and walked out on you.”  
  
Without realizing it, she and Louie had raised their voices and were talking over the adults. Webby’s fists were balled and she glowered at Louie, who appeared unfazed. He always had such a cool expression on his face, like nothing bothered him.  
  
“She has no self-confidence because of what Magica did to her. It’s not her fault. She thought she was protecting me,” she argued.  
  
“Guys, what’s going on?” Huey said.  
  
“I’m not a prize to be won, Llewellyn,” she snapped.  
  
“Okay, that’s low. No one calls me that,” he said. “You know I hate it. And two, I didn’t say that you were. You’re the one saying that. I’m just saying that if you were my girl, I’d treat you better than Lena has.”  
  
“Excuse me, but...what in the blazes is going on here?” Scrooge demanded.  
  
Webby folded her arms across her chest. “Louie’s been jealous and upset since Lena kissed me.”  
  
“I do not get ‘jealous’,” he said, holding up his hands. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of. And if you’re so sure Lena’s on your side, then why hasn’t she called you back? Hmm? Shouldn’t she have been waiting at the manor to see how you were?”  
  
“She probably had other stuff to do…” she said, faltering. While she didn’t want to think ill of Lena, Louie had introduced doubts. She hugged herself.  
  
“See what you missed? Family drama,” Scrooge told Della.  
  
“Is there anything I can do?” Della asked.  
  
“I’ll talk to him,” Donald said. Louie glared at his mother.  
  
“Yes,  _Uncle Donald_  will talk to me because he didn’t bail on me before I hatched,” Louie said. Webby winced. So much for keeping that under wraps.  
  
“I didn’t think you were going to hatch so soon,” Della protested. “And I took the Spear for a test run. I got stuck in a time loop. To me, I’ve only been gone several months. I didn’t know ten years had passed. I swear.”  
  
Donald pulled Louie aside to have a stern word with him. He’d brought him back to the conference room the others had been in before and closed the door. Webby stared at the door with a strange mix of emotions. She didn’t like Louie being jealous and she hated that there was strife. But...what if Louie was right? What if Lena had skipped town? She’d promised her she hadn’t, but what if she’d been lying? Or, worse, what if something had happened to her? Webby would have no way of knowing for another three days at the least.  
  
“You don’t think Lena went after the Bloodhound Gang, do you?” Huey asked. “Uncle Scrooge didn’t mention finding them before we left.”  
  
“If she went after them alone, they might attack her the way they did me...and Lena wasn’t trained to fight people off like I was,” Webby said in a small voice. For all of her training, they’d still managed to molest her. Webby had convinced them it wasn’t worth the risk for a gang assault. But Lena...Lena only had the remnants of Magica’s magic. Webby’s stomach churned and clenched into a tight knot. She thought she might be sick.  
  
“She wouldn’t have gone after them alone, would she?” Huey asked and Webby’s frown deepened. She remembered Lena denigrating herself until Webby had stopped her. If her self-esteem was that low, and Webby had no reason to doubt that it was, she might’ve thought she deserved whatever the Gang dealt out. Her nausea doubled and she had to swallow against the bile burning her throat. Lena…  
  
“No word from McDuck Manor?” Scrooge asked Gyro, who looked annoyed that he’d been interrupted mid-ramble.  
  
“No,” he said. “Why? Were you expecting someone?”  
  
Scrooge glanced over at Webby and his frown deepened. “Aye, I was. Send Gizmoduck to check on the place and then see if he can track down my niece’s friend.”  
  
Gyro’s eyes narrowed. “If the bumbling idiot can manage that without making things worse.”  
  
“That’s the best I can do, Webby,” Scrooge said. “Perhaps she’s just sleeping and she couldn’t get to the phone in time.”  
  
“Yeah…” Webby said, but she wasn’t convinced. “Maybe.”  
  
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” he pointed out. “And maybe she’s not alone. Maybe she found someone to help her.”  
  
Morose, she nodded. Donald and Louie returned, Louie looking down at the floor. He mumbled an apology to his mother and then glanced over at Webby, whose attempt at a smile fell flat. Her stomach was tying itself into knots over Lena. Would she have gotten herself killed trying to apprehend the Bloodhound Gang? Was her self-loathing that strong?  
  
 _“Lena, you beautiful idiot…”_  
  
Although they’d filled Della in on everything that had happened in her absence, they hadn’t told her what had transpired with Webby after Magica’s attack. Therefore, Della looked curiously at Webby, who wasn’t in the mood to extrapolate. She let the triplets tell Gyro what Della had told them and tuned them and Scrooge out.  
  
“She’ll turn up, lass,” Scrooge said after he’d hung up with Gyro. “Don’t worry.”  
  
“I know she can take care of herself…” she said, but she didn’t believe it. She’d only taken care of herself before because Magica had influenced her. Without Magica, Webby wasn’t confident in Lena’s ability to defend herself. Or, in fact, whether the older girl even wanted to.  
  
“We’re going to head straight back, at any rate,” he said, glancing everyone over. “And then we’ll have a nice long talk in the ship.”  
  
They trooped back and Webby was grateful that, unlike the Sunchaser, the spaceship had seats near the cockpit and also small cabins. Naturally, they were cramped, but since she was a girl, she hadn’t needed to share them with anyone. That was until they’d rescued Della. Webby wasn’t thrilled about sharing her cabin--she’d wanted the alone time--but she couldn’t kick her out. Della was more family than Webby was.  
  
Della was actually a Duck. Webby was just a Vanderquack.  
  
“You’re awfully quiet,” Della said, stowing her gear. “I thought someone Uncle Scrooge took along would’ve been super excited to be here.”  
  
“Heh, yeah,” she said, plopping onto her bunk and staring at the one above her. “You can take the top bunk. I don’t mind.”  
  
Della frowned. “You’re upset about something.”  
  
“It’s nothing to do with you,” she reassured her.  
  
“I won’t pretend that I have any experience with kids, but…” she frowned deeper. “You seem like you need someone to talk to.”  
  
“I don’t really wanna talk,” she responded, curling into a ball. She wanted to cry and sleep in that order. She hugged the pillow to her and pretended it was Lena.  
  
“No judgment,” Della promised. “I’m the only one here you don’t have a history with. It might be easier to tell a stranger.”  
  
She wished she’d stop prodding. It was poking at angry open wounds and she buried her face in her pillow. The terrible need to cry was choking her and she didn’t want to do it in front of Della. Della was a legend. She was incredible, a true adventurer. She didn’t deserve to be boggled down with mundane things like a traumatized girl.  
  
It occurred to her that might be the source of Louie’s resentment, among other things. The triplets had placed Della on a pedestal and when that pedestal had come down, they’d blamed Scrooge. With time, they’d learned to forgive him. Louie hadn’t forgiven their mother. He saw her as bigger than life and, as a result, incompatible with his view of the universe.  
  
“All right. I’ll be back,” Della promised and brushed Webby’s shoulder before walking out. She shut the door behind her and, once Webby was certain she was out of earshot, she gave vent to her misery. Lena, the Bloodhound Gang, her grandmother, it all swirled around her. She was a victim and a murderer all at once.  
  
The door opened and she jerked, half expecting it to be Della intruding on her. It wasn’t. Through blurry vision, she saw Louie step in and then, although the bunk barely fit her, he squeezed in beside her. Huh. She guessed Dewey and Huey were fixated on their mother.  
  
“Hey, Webs,” he said softly.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“Dewey’s obsessed with our mom and Huey can’t stop asking questions,” Louie explained. “She’s the ‘star of the show’.”  
  
“You should go out there,” she replied, rolling over to face the wall. He hugged her and she burst into tears anew. She fisted her hands in his hoodie pocket.  
  
“It’s not my scene.”  
  
“She’s a legend,” Webby persisted. “Don’t you want to get to know her?”  
  
“She’s a legend,” he repeated. “She’s not my mom. She wasn’t there for us. Why should I be there for her?”  
  
The coldness in his tone prompted her to roll over. He rested his chin on her hair and she closed her eyes.  
  
“Mom left me the way Lena left you; when we needed her the most. She left all of us. I don’t understand how Dewey and Huey can just flock to her when if it hadn’t been for Uncle Donald, we would’ve been orphans.”  
  
“Maybe they’re so desperate to get to know her that they’re willing to overlook that and hear her explanation for it,” she said. She could taste the tears in her mouth.  
  
“I’m not,” he said and then, to her surprise, tilted her face up. “I don’t walk out on people and I don’t trust people who do.”  
  
He brushed his beak against hers.  
  
“Louie?” she whispered, shocked.  
  
“No one hurts my family,” he said fiercely. “Huey might see you as a sister, but I don’t. And neither does Dewey, for that matter.”  
  
She wanted to protest and say she was with Lena, but she didn’t know what was happening with that. Had Lena walked out on her again? Had Lena put herself in harm’s way to vindicate herself? Lena had said she’d loved her, but if she’d left her three times now, what did that say about her true feelings? Was Webby foolish to keep holding out for her?  
  
She didn’t kiss him back. She wasn’t sure if it was the suddenness of it or because she had so much on her mind already.  
  
He pulled back and she tugged on his hoodie to bring him closer again. It wasn’t until he’d arrived that she realized how desperate she was not to be alone. She’d thought she’d wanted solitude but she felt more comfortable in his presence than his absence.  
  
“I’ll take care of you, Webs,” he promised. “No one hurts what’s mine.”  
  
\----  
  
A day and a half ago, on Earth…  
  
What Lena wanted and what Gladstone was willing to permit were two different things. She wanted to spend all of her time searching for the Bloodhound Gang; they had to sleep sometime. Of course, she hadn’t planned out exactly what she’d do with them once she located them. Part of her was reluctant to turn them over to Scrooge because she wanted to punish them for what they’d done to Webby. A larger part of her realized she would be in very serious danger if she confronted them alone. That part knew she needed Gladstone. The other part of her was irritated as hell she needed anyone’s help at all.  
  
Gladstone, for obvious reasons, was not willing to let her wander Duckberg unaccompanied when it came to walking through the worst neighborhoods. He was well known, too, which meant she couldn’t wander down them with him without arousing curiosity and suspicion. Moreover, she wasn’t sure what kind of luck he’d have. Was it the kind that prevented mugging? Or just the kind that kept him from getting seriously injured in an attack?  
  
The sad thing was the only other person who knew anything about Gladstone Gander’s luck and its limitations was Magica de Spell. After their last confrontation, Magica had gone underground. Lena assumed she was biding her time again and licking her wounds. Given their current relationship, it would’ve been impossible to confer with her anyway. She wouldn’t have been forthcoming and Lena hated the idea of asking her aunt for a favor. Plus, it was Magica’s fault that this had happened in the first place, even if Lena shared some of the blame.  
  
It also meant she had to spend more time with Gladstone to see whether he comprehended the depths of his luck. Lena found his behavior baffling. He seemed to care about her for no discernible reason, in that he wouldn’t let her run headlong into danger. She saw no reason why he should care; she was no relative of his and she hadn’t established that Scrooge would concern himself should anything befall her. Nonetheless, Gladstone seemed to have taken her on as his special project.  
  
The part of her nourished by Magica’s influence resented it. He was cramping her style. The rest of her was confused.  
  
Right now they sat in McDuck Manor while Lena drank Louie’s favorite soda and sat as far as she could from Gladstone on the couch. Her body language indicated she neither wanted nor invited openness. Her legs were crossed and she was leaning away from him. The only way she could’ve been more closed off was if she’d turned her back on him, which she wouldn’t do because that would make her vulnerable.  
  
“You’re going to have to trust me, at least a little,” he said.  
  
Lena snorted. “We have a business relationship. Not a familial one. Don’t confuse the two.”  
  
“You said Magica ‘raised’ you,” he said. “I know she’s not the most loving person.”  
  
She snorted again. “You could put it that way.”  
  
“There is light in her, deep down,” he persisted. “There’s enough light in her to love someone.”  
  
“She recruited the Bloodhound Gang to help kidnap Webby and used her terror of them to try to kill her,” Lena said flatly. “Even if she didn’t let them assault her again, she didn’t exactly discourage it.”  
  
“I’m not saying that she’s always altruistic. Or ever altruistic.”  
  
“Don’t defend her to me. It won’t work,” she snapped. “She kept me alive after driving my father away so that she could use me to regain her body. She didn’t give a damn about me otherwise. Don’t make this into more than it was.”  
  
She raised her head to glower at Gladstone. “I know her type of ‘love’. It’s a dark sided possession. She didn’t want to have you, she wanted to own you. She’s a psychopath.”  
  
She folded her arms across her chest. “In the entire time she was my shadow, she never mentioned you. What does that tell you about how much she ‘loves’ you?”  
  
“She has a funny way of showing it.”  
  
“If you think she has the potential to care about anyone besides herself, you’re delusional.”  
  
“What exactly did she say to you that makes you hate yourself so much you’d go running into a hornet’s nest without weapons?” he retorted.  
  
Lena balled her fists and put the soda down before she crushed the can. “Like I said, this is a business relationship. I’m not telling you my deepest, darkest secrets.”  
  
“Like I said, you have to trust me.”  
  
“No, I don’t,” she snarled, rounding on him. “And your trying to keep me from finding the Gang is total b.s. I’ll do it with or without you.”  
  
“Lena de Spell,” he said warningly and she pushed herself to her feet. She was shaking in anger.  
  
“I’ll do it on my own or not at all.”  
  
“How do you think Webby will feel when she calls the Manor to check up on you tomorrow and finds out you’re gone?” he said.  
  
Lena froze. It felt like Gladstone had stabbed her in the chest. Hissing, she snapped, “You don’t get to use Webby as a weapon.”  
  
“You’re not doing yourself any favors running in there throwing all caution to the winds.”  
  
“I don’t care about me,” she snapped. “I care about Webby. There’s a difference.”  
  
“There’s a difference between finding and apprehending criminals and suicide,” he countered.  
  
Lena huffed, refusing to dignify that with a response, and stormed away from the couch. He grabbed her wrist.  
  
“Let go of me,” she ordered. Her beak twitched. “Your luck doesn’t affect me.”  
  
“It didn’t affect Magica either.”  
  
Lena bristled. Between his weaponizing Webby and throwing Magica in her face, she was developing a strong dislike for him again. Plus, he might’ve hit a little too close to home with that last comment. Maybe it was suicidal.  
  
“Let me help you,” he said softly. “It doesn’t cost you anything.”  
  
“Let go of me,” she ordered again and he released her. “I don’t like being touched.”  
  
Guilt swam through Gladstone’s features, though what he had to feel guilty about, she didn’t know. He raised his hand and she flinched, expecting a blow that never came. The same thing had happened with Scrooge earlier. She took an unconscious step back.  
  
“Lena…” he said and shook his head. “I’m sorry for what Magica did to you.”  
  
“Whatever. It’s not your fault. I’m fine.”  _I deserved it. I must’ve deserved it._  
  
“You’re not fine,” he said and, perhaps sensing a change of subject was in order, he added, “I have a hunch where the Gang will be next. Want to tag along?”  
  
“I don’t have anything better to do,” she said and shrugged. Gladstone’s words lingered. Magica had never apologized for verbally and emotionally abusing her and no one knew the extent of what Magica had done. Yet Gladstone was willing to make reparations for it.  
  
What was this guy’s deal? Why should he care one way or another? Could he be actually a decent person? The idea was hard to grasp. In her life, everyone looked out for themselves first and other people second, if at all. Then Webby had come along.  
  
Her heart clenched. Webby. The younger girl would be distraught if anything happened to her. She’d already bailed on her twice. If she did it again, Webby might think she didn’t care or that she was abandoning her. And Lena had killed her grandmother, albeit with Magica wielding her body.  
  
She didn’t deserve Webby. Webby was too pure for this world. Her heart clenched tighter. But, oh, did she love her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena gets herself deeper and deeper in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday. Same author's note applies here--things are rather unsettled at home and I'm having a bad confidence attack, in that I have no confidence in my writing now. 
> 
> I'll be updating once a week from now on. Sorry.

_One day ago, back in Duckberg..._  
  
Gladstone’s ability to talk himself out of anything had finally met its match. It appeared that the nascent Bloodhound Gang leader was immune to his charms. Lena stifled a groan; how had it gotten so bad so quickly? The worst that she thought could’ve happened would be that the Gang would become thoroughly sick of them and end up tossing them aside. Now the leader, who was tossing a knife back and forth, had both of them tied up and eying them, particularly her, with avarice and hunger.  
  
No matter how little self-worth she felt she had or how much she hated herself, Lena did not want to end up being this asshole’s “treat”. She could try smooth-talking her way out of this, but if Gladstone’s charm and charisma had no effect, what chance did she have? Webby would’ve had them out of here by now. No one was carrying a gun at the moment and Lena knew Webby could defend herself against blades. Perhaps her grandmother hadn’t gotten around to teaching her how to defend herself against guns. Now she never would.  
  
There was a silver lining in this increasingly gray cloud. No one had bothered to search her or Gladstone for weapons. She doubted Gladstone had any, save his luck. Lena hadn’t been that arrogant. She’d stashed the knife Scrooge had given her, along with the button to summon Gizmoduck, in her shirt. The Bloodhound Gang would probably find it if they really wanted to make her squirm, but they hadn’t looked yet. All she needed to do was get an arm free to grab either the blade or call Gizmoduck. Since the latter was secured to her waist, she’d have a better chance if she could just bump her hip against the ground. Of course, she’d have to do it in a way that didn’t look suspicious. Her luck wasn’t too stellar right now either.  
  
“Come on, we’re all friends here,” Gladstone called. Lena rolled her eyes and then, slowly, shifted her weight. They were tussled up on the ground and she just needed an extra few inches to hit the button.  
  
Ugh, she hated relying on someone else, especially since her first choice hadn’t panned out too well. She glowered at the older male duck, who continued spouting off some stupid promises about how he’d repay them if they just let him go. The leader, still passing the knife from hand to hand, approached him. Lena held her breath. If he looked six inches to his right, he’d see her rocking back and forth. She prayed he didn’t look.  
  
“We’re not friends,” the leader, Mr. Scar, snarled. “But I am interested in this deal you were talking about.”  
  
 _Keep talking, keep talking...keep him busy…_  
  
The other two members were keeping the lookout. They paced in opposite directions and paid the captives no mind at all. She wasn’t concerned with them. Another inch more and...she felt the cement rub against the button and her ropes.  
  
 _Yes!_  
  
“What are you doing?” Mr. Scar said and Lena forced a bright, big smile.  
  
“Uh, scratching an itch?” she replied innocently. In response, he heaved her to her feet and began brusquely patting her down. His hands lingered on her thighs and she ground her teeth. To pat her down, he had to loosen her bindings and she took advantage of that to kick him in the groin. Considering what they’d had planned for her and earlier for Webby, she thought it was the least she could do.  
  
 _Fucking creeper_ , she thought.  
  
“Hey!” Gladstone said. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to treat a lady?”  
  
“Little late,” she muttered. The other two members, hearing Mr. Scar’s yelp, rushed to her. Lena sidestepped; her legs were free now, but her arms remained trapped. She had no idea how far away Gizmoduck might be or whether he’d answer the distress signal. Assuming he would answer, she had to play for time.  
  
They were thugs and they weren’t liable to withstand Gizmoduck’s upcoming assault. That was the good news. The bad news...everything else.  
  
Without Webby, she couldn’t trip anyone up. Moreover, she didn’t have that strange shared battle mentality with Gladstone. He also wasn’t free from the waist down; the gang had chosen to leave her ties loose around her legs so they had access. And that was a whole can of worms Lena did not want to consider.  
  
The two lookouts grabbed her by the arms, as they saw her as the most prominent threat. Either that or Gladstone’s luck meant they were underestimating him. Their grip hurt and she struggled, wishing she had Webby’s gift of flipping them over her shoulder or whatever her power moves were. A blow to the head put an end to that wishful thinking. Lena’s head spun and she caught herself reaching for the amulet she no longer possessed.  
  
Magica would probably have said she deserved it for putting herself in danger for Webby. She wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help, not unless it benefited her. Lena groaned. There had to be a way out of this.  
  
“Where’s the little bitch?” Mr. Scar said. He had worn a faintly amused look before, now he glared hatefully at her. She glared back. She hoped his groin ached like a motherfucker.  
  
“Not here,” Lena snapped back. “Not anywhere in Duckberg or anywhere your grubby little hands can reach.”  
  
She took exception to them denigrating Webby like that, but now was not the time to berate them for it. They had the upper hand, after all. Her beak formed into a snarl. Webby was worth ten, no, a hundred of these creeps.  
  
“We should teach the bitch a lesson, starting with you,” Mr. Scar snapped. Lena went cold and swung back and forth again despite the pounding in her head. She was attempting to free herself and was having no success.  
  
“Should we have our fun first?” one of the lookouts, whose voice was rather squeaky and who Lena was now dubbing “Mr. Squeakers”, asked.  
  
“No,” Mr. Scar decided. “We’ll use them as hostages. They’re more valuable to McDuck and that little bitch if they’re uninjured...for the time being.”  
  
Damn it, of all the times for people to be learning lessons from her aunt about holding people hostage. Lena glanced over at Gladstone. He was lucky; he should have a sixth sense of what they ought to plan. Didn’t he have any inkling of it?  
  
“You know, I didn’t do anything to you,” Gladstone said. “You ought to let me go.”  
  
“ _Really_?!” Lena cried, outraged. She received a cuff on the back of the head that left her whimpering. It looked like her first impression of him was right. She should’ve known better than to trust someone who wasn’t working a visible angle. She cursed him soundly in her head.  
  
Then he winked at her. He was playing an angle, just one she couldn’t fathom. Disconcerted, she glanced at her captors. Gizmoduck was nowhere on the horizon and Gladstone had thrown her to the proverbial wolves. Whatever he had planned must’ve required agency on his part.  
  
Did he think he was going to call the cops? They weren’t that stupid. They weren’t going to let him go on a technicality.  
  
To her consternation, they appeared to be considering it. The two lookouts were getting handsy with her and she wriggled, unable to have the range of motion she might’ve otherwise had without the blows to the head. Webby had mentioned that they had liked to smack her around too. Lena tasted blood; she’d bitten her tongue and she spat at her captors’ feet.  
  
“Think he’ll rat us out?” Mr. Squeakers asked. He shook Lena again for good measure and her teeth chattered. Her head swam and one of the assholes had his hand between her leg and her stomach and inching inward.  
  
“Let me go, you asshole!” she snapped. “I’m Magica’s niece, damn it!”  
  
“So...curse us,” Mr. Scar said, turning to face her. With the three intent on her, no one was watching Gladstone. Was she a diversionary tactic? Or had she complicated matters further without thinking about it? She just wanted him to stop feeling her up, goddamn it.  
  
“Cute little tail you got there,” Mr. Squeakers said and tugged on it. Lena growled, kicking back and hitting him in the kneecap. Something gave beneath her sneaker with a crunch. Mr. Squeakers buckled, taking her with him. They landed hard on the ground and he broke her fall. He released her to cradle his shattered kneecap and she rolled away, but not too far. The other stooge had his hand on her and yanked her back up.  
  
And where had Mr. Scar’s knife gone? He’d been playing with it and then it’d vanished. The Bloodhound Gang didn’t strike her as particularly competent or intelligent; either that or they were unlucky compared to Gladstone Gander.  
  
“Let the girl go,” Gladstone snapped, pressing the missing knife to Mr. Scar’s neck. “Let her go or--”  
  
“You don’t have the guts,” Mr. Scar said. “You’re too good.”  
  
Oh, Gladstone might’ve been, but Lena was not. Just give her the knife and she’d slash her way to freedom.  
  
“Am I?” he asked and blood pooled on the knife.  _Don’t call his bluff. Don’t call his bluff…_  
  
“All right. You can go,” Mr. Scar snapped. “But the girl stays. She’s a message to that little bitch, Webbigail Vanderquack.”  
  
“If you think I’m going to leave a vulnerable girl in your charge, you’re sadly mistaken,” Gladstone said and Lena suppressed a groan. He was not helping his case.  
  
“I didn’t say you had a choice,” Mr. Scar said. “Oh, wait, you do. Either you let us take this bitch as bait and we let you go, as long as you don’t call the cops. Or you keep up this protest and we take both of you to lure her out. One way or another, though, we’re keeping her.”  
  
Another blow to the head eliminated any possible thought of fighting off the remaining gang member. Lena’s vision faded in and out, as did her hearing. She did not like that they knew Webby’s full name. More than likely, they also knew where she lived. Fuck, fuck, fuck. From bad to worse.  
  
“What’s this?” Mr. Gruff said (they needed nicknames, after all). He slid his hand along her waist and removed the signaling device for Gizmoduck.  
  
“The little bitch was wearing a wire?” Mr. Scar snarled.  
  
Where the hell was Gizmoduck? What was taking him so long?  
  
“Yeah, we’ll be taking her now,” Mr. Gruff snapped. He swung Lena around and over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Her vision and hearing faded out again and she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. If Gizmoduck was coming, he was going to be too late.  
  
\----  
 _Present time, Duckberg_  
  
Gladstone cursed when he saw that they had missed messages at McDuck Manor. Lena hadn’t told him that they’d be calling to check up on her. It was too late to call them back--the line didn’t go through. Then again, he hadn’t spoken to Lena in a day. How was he supposed to know that they had wanted to speak with her?  
  
Gizmoduck and the cops had arrived only to discover that the Bloodhound Gang had adopted another measure from Magica de Spell--her smoke bombs. They’d gotten away with Lena and he was anxious, worried about her and worried about what they had in mind for Webby and the Duck family. He’d thought they’d be able to put this matter to rest before the clan returned to Earth with Della. That was looking less and less likely.  
  
But he still had three days. And he’d been lucky in that they hadn’t come after him when he’d fled and brought the law down on them. His luck had held out indefinitely before. It could do so again.  
  
Lena didn’t have any luck. He needed to get to her and fast. Those lecherous bastards would have had her for a day now...and he doubted they could refrain from abusing her in that time. If only she’d inherited some magic from Magica. Or had she? He didn’t know. For her sake, he hoped so.  
  
This time, when he went after the Bloodhound Gang, he’d have to bring Gizmoduck and the cops along. It was the only way to rescue her.  
  
\----  
  
Lena awoke with a nasty taste in her mouth. Bleary-eyed, she blinked and then hissed at the pain in her wrists and arms. It felt like she was dangling from the ceiling. Once her eyes opened fully and she processed what was going on, she realized that was the case. Gladstone was nowhere to be seen, had probably ditched her, and she was hanging from the ceiling like tenderized meat. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious for and she sagged to her knees. It felt like her arms were going to pop out of their sockets.  
  
“Oh, look, she’s up,” Mr. Gruff said and nudged her with his boot. Lena glanced around; they were in an underground cavern and the three Bloodhound Gang members had set up cots and chairs. The remnants of breakfast were on a table nearby. Lena’s stomach rumbled and she jerked unconsciously forward, causing a sharp pain to course up and down her arms.  
  
“I told you she’d wake up eventually,” Magica hissed and Lena froze. Her aunt was sitting on one of the chairs and flipping through a grimoire. Lena pushed herself to her feet, but with the way the chains dangled, it was impossible to stand upright. Something told her that Magica had conceived of it.  
  
“Hello, dear. Miss me?” Magica said. “Little traitor.”  
  
“I didn’t think you’d work with them again,” Lena said from between gritted teeth. “Considering how they abandoned you.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t think so either,” she said, moving toward her niece and using her staff to prop Lena’s chin up. “And then they told me they had you and were using you as bait to lure out Webster. I thought, what an opportunity. Even if I don’t stay for them to kill her, I can certainly stay to watch you suffer. I even brought popcorn.”  
  
“Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?” Lena snapped. Magica shrugged, knocking Lena’s legs out from under her. Lena felt something pop and screamed. Feeling sick, she twisted her neck and her arms were hanging out of their sockets in an unnatural angle.  
  
“Didn’t you?” Magica cooed. “I’d love to stay and chat, but since I have no intention of being caught unawares by the brats again, I’ll just watch from a safe distance. I only came because I wanted to see you.”  
  
She pushed Lena’s head back an uncomfortable angle, one that brought tears to her eyes. “And to remind you the consequences of betraying me.”  
  
Lena gasped, her arms grinding in their sockets. The pain was excruciating and her beak trembled. Magica watched her with a malicious grin.  
  
“I know you’re wondering whether it’d be better to kill you and leave your body for her to find,” Magica said. “But this is better. That way, you suffer until your beloved Wendy shows up. Oh, won’t she be surprised to find out that you tried to defeat the Gang for her and wound up captured instead.”  
  
She poked at Lena. “You’re awfully quiet. Don’t you have anything to say while I gloat?”  
  
Lena was focusing on staying conscious and attempting to no avail to ignore the agony from her dislocated arms. Magica snorted, kicking at her knees and causing her to lose her precarious balance. It yanked on the chains, causing her to fall back on them and drag her down, and Lena screamed again, tears burning the corners of her eyes. Gladstone thought Magica had light in her. Gladstone didn’t know shit.  
  
“That’s better,” Magica said. “When are the brats supposed to be back, anyway? Oh, don’t give me that look. I knew when she didn’t come running that they weren’t in town.”  
  
“I’m...not...telling you...anything…” Lena panted.  
  
“I could torture you all day,” Magica said. She glanced back at the Bloodhound Gang. “Unless you three have any objections?”  
  
“Nope, go right ahead,” Mr. Scar said. Mr. Squeakers was lying on a cot and appeared unconsciously, probably the result of a heavy sedative. His knee had swollen to twice its normal size.  
  
“Gladstone said...there was good in you…” Lena panted. “I don’t...see it.”  
  
Magica froze, her staff elongating Lena’s chains so Lena could stand with slack in the restraints. She gasped for breath and Magica inspected her.  
  
“You spoke to Gladstone, did you?” she asked in a would-be casual voice.  
  
“What does it matter?” Lena huffed. “You don’t care about him.”  
  
She swayed on her feet. Her vision was fading in and out. Magica steadied her with a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, causing her to black out for a few minutes from the pain. When she came to, she was whimpering and, after a final hard squeeze that made Lena see stars, Magica released her.  
  
“You aren’t lying,” Magica said quietly. “How is he?”  
  
What the hell was this? “Ask him yourself.”  
  
“Where is he?” she demanded.  
  
“McDuck Manor…” Lena groaned. Had Gladstone been telling the truth? Did Magica actually care about someone other than herself?  
  
“Release her,” Magica said. Lena collapsed to her knees again, this time in shock. “Give her something to eat.  _Don’t touch her_. But keep an eye on her. I’ll be back.”  
  
Then, releasing a smoke bomb, she disappeared.  
  
Mr. Scar, giving Lena a look of utmost loathing, unlocked her manacles. Lena collapsed to the floor in a heap and gasped, her vision fading in and out again. This was quite possibly the worst pain she’d ever experienced in her life and she found herself questioning her life’s decisions that had led up to this point.  
  
“What the hell is the point of kidnapping her if we can’t have any fun?” Mr. Gruff huffed. “I mean, look at her. She’s ripe for the taking.”  
  
Lena spat at their feet. With both arms dislocated, she couldn’t push herself to her feet. Groaning, she collapsed onto her back and stared up at the stone ceiling. She’d gone to help Webby and made matters so much worse.  
  
“You heard Magica,” Mr. Scar snapped. “Besides, if she’s anything like the little bitch who did this to me, she probably has something up her sleeve.”  
  
She really didn’t, but it didn’t hurt for them to think so.  
  
 _Ugh, I’m so sorry, Webby…_  
  
And now she was probably worried sick about her to boot. On top of feeling like crap physically, she matched it mentally too. The only reason she wasn’t still dangling from the ceiling was that her aunt had a soft spot for Webby’s grandmother’s employer’s nephew. Magica was right about one thing--Scrooge did have a confusing family structure.  
  
She had one slim hope. Magica seemed to have a weak spot for Gladstone. Maybe Gladstone would be able to convince her this wasn’t worth it. Of course, that assumed Gladstone cared enough about Lena to put in the effort. Lena groaned. Yeah, probably not.  
  
She was screwed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magicstone, Lena's rescued, and Webby's having some problems of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted early because I want to wake up to reviews. Then again, with this fic, I kinda doubt I'll get anything. XD 
> 
> Also, didn't want to update on Saturday when the new ep airs.

Gladstone was markedly less excited to see her than she was to see him. She’d entered McDuck Manor and found him easily; he was attempting to contact the space station, which confused her. As far as she knew, Della Duck was gone for good. It left her conflicted because she hadn’t hated her the way she loathed Scrooge. She even had what passed for a soft spot for Della.  
  
“What?” Magica said and glanced around her. “Do I have something on my cape?”  
  
“I was working with Lena to track down the Bloodhound Gang,” he said quietly. “I can’t help but notice that you’re alone.”  
  
“Did you really think I was going to save her?” Magica sniffed. “She’s a blood traitor. And she even fell for that Webster to boot. She’s no kin of mine.”  
  
“She’s your niece,” he objected. “Lena thinks you’re a monster.”  
  
“Oh, does she?” Magica affected a disinterested tone. “I suppose it takes one to know one. Only a monster would betray her own blood.”  
  
“She said you raised her and I can’t help but notice that she flinches when I move a certain way, almost like she was hit.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I couldn’t possibly have struck her as a shadow.”  
  
Yet she must’ve had some corporeal form because otherwise, Lena’s behavior didn’t add up. Magica waved her hand, dismissing this, and plopped onto the couch near Gladstone. She patted the seat beside her.  
  
“You’re acting like we’re old friends. We’re not.”  
  
“Oh?” She feigned indifference, but she was actually wounded by his comment. What the hell had Lena said to him? She was starting to regret her rash decision to have Lena released and then fed. Then again...she grinned to herself. Lena wouldn’t be feeding herself any time soon with two dislocated arms.  
  
“I thought we grew up together. Perhaps I’m mistaken,” she said. He still hadn’t sat down and it irked her. It had been more than fifteen years since she’d touched him and the yearning was so strong as to be almost undeniable. She smoothed her dress out to keep from grabbing him and yanking him down beside her.  
  
“Magica…” he said and sat down beside her finally. Her heart thudded.  
  
“If you say one more thing about Lena,” she warned, “then this conversation is over.”  
  
Gladstone sighed, folding his arms across his chest. She couldn’t stop herself. She unfolded them and her hands lingered on his arms. This time, her heart rate had kicked into overdrive.  _Just kiss me already, damn you…_  
  
“Why are you associating with people like the Bloodhound Gang. I know you pride yourself on your maliciousness and malevolence, but...you’re too good for them,” he said and leaned into her. Their knees bumped and she brought herself closer. She was barely breathing, holding her breath for their beaks to touch.  
  
Magica smiled at him. “You’re the only person who can get away with saying something like that.”  
  
“I’m serious, Magica,” he said. “Your associating with them is only making you look worse by comparison, even though you don’t engage in that sort of behavior. I get that you’re upset about being a shadow for fifteen years, but this isn’t a good way to make a comeback.”  
  
“Oh?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. “And what would you do instead?”  
  
He smiled disarmingly. “I would’ve had the luck not to be captured in the first place.”  
  
She scoffed. “Not all of us have all the luck in the universe, Gladstone.”  
  
He tensed as if knowing he would have to broach a subject she wouldn’t like. “Magica, we have to talk about Lena.”  
  
“Why?” she snapped. “We were having such a good time.”  
  
“You can’t keep abusing her like that. She’s a good kid,” he said.  
  
“And you know that how?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “She and her bratty ‘best friend’ tried to kill me, along with their friends. What makes you think I’d even consider lenience with her?”  
  
She glowered at him. “Don’t tell me it was my fault. I don’t want to hear it. I came here because I haven’t seen you in fifteen years and I’ve missed you. I’m not here for a lecture on my behavior.”  
  
“I should’ve known this wouldn’t work,” he said, shaking his head, and she bristled.  
  
“You’ve known her a couple days and you’re already taking her side over mine?” she snapped. “What happened to loyalty? You don’t even know how I came to be her shadow, nor why I behaved as I did. How dare you side with her.”  
  
Gladstone frowned and she frowned back. Did he really expect her to change her tune?  
  
“You’re right,” he said after a minute. “I don’t. And we have more history than I do with Lena.”  
  
“Exactly,” she said and shifted on the couch so that she was half in his lap. Damn it, it’d been fifteen years and she’d been touch starved. And she was an adult and she had needs too. She shifted fully onto his lap, though she wasn’t straddling him, despite her yearning to do so.  
  
She was being remarkably patient, she thought, for being ensnared in a fucking  _dime_  for fifteen years. After all, she could’ve shoved him against the couch and had her way with him already. And wasn’t that tempting.  
  
“If I promise to do something about Lena, will you stop bringing it up and kiss me already?” she huffed.  
  
He smiled. “Yes.”  
  
She kissed him soundly and he kissed her back. As she did, she noted his interest rising. This was promising. And besides, she said she’d do something about Lena. She’d never specified what that “something” was. Ha.  
  
What a fool.  
\-----  
  
After their third coupling, Gladstone was too drained to do anything. She’d planned on that, although she hadn’t expected how much she’d craved him. Even after three times, she still wanted more. Well, she could imbue him with magic and restore him or she could check on her pet project. Decisions, decisions.  
  
Of course, if she kept at it, she’d probably end up walking strangely for a while. He was half asleep against her and she stroked his head feathers absently. Despite his arrogance or perhaps because of it, he was quite good at what he did. Had anyone else been in the manor, they would’ve heard her response. It was almost a pity that Scrooge and the brats were out. They could’ve had quite a show.  
  
She smirked at the couch. No one was going to be sitting on it again after what they’d done. Running her fingers through her hair, she contemplated the problem of Lena. Regardless of how Lena had betrayed her, she didn’t hate her enough to want her dead. And she was suffering from two dislocated arms. So it wasn’t like Lena was walking around with a smile on her face.  
  
Magica stretched and smiled at the tingling sensation she had. Part of Gladstone’s luck was how good he was at certain acts and she’d orgasmed multiple times. Oh, to hell with it.  
  
She snuggled back against him. Lena could wait. When Gladstone woke up, they could continue.  
\-----  
  
Lena de Spell was not enjoying herself, not remotely. Although the gang did keep their hands to themselves, they scanned her up and down with their eyes and made lewd gestures at her. They’d also gagged her and then propped her up in a chair. Her shoulders and arms were on fire and she was having a hard time holding back tears. She should’ve known better than to trust the word of someone who had a fling with Magica. For all she knew, she’d be here until Webby and the others came back.  
  
If they ever found her. Lena felt laughter burning her throat. They might not find her until Magica willed it. Then where would she be? Probably raped in a heap somewhere.  
  
How long could they hold out with Magica’s threat? They’d behaved for the last few hours, but that didn’t mean anything. You couldn’t trust the word of assholes like these. They’d bound her legs to the chair and the two conscious members of the gang were pacing around her and licking their lips.  
  
Lena jumped in the chair and then hissed when it jostled her arms. The resulting trauma brought her to tears again. This was, bar none, the worst experience she’d had in recent history. She was letting Webby down, she’d been abandoned by someone who claimed to care about her, and these hounds were circling her like vultures. One of them touched her thigh and she swung out, but her kick didn’t connect.  
  
Lecherous bastards. So much for Magica’s command.  
  
Terror settled in. They might actually do it. Webby had fought off the rest of them and convinced them she wasn’t worth the trouble. Lena had no defense. Everything within her went cold.  
  
On the table, the plates began to float.  
  
“Her eyes are glowing,” Mr. Gruff said nervously.  
  
Was she doing that? She knew she had a modicum of magic left over from Magica, but she’d never been able to channel it. They hadn’t bothered to bind her arms behind her back, so if she could heal herself, she could untie her legs and flee. Or at least signal help.  
  
They’d stolen the button from her waist but hadn’t destroyed it. Lena glanced at the plates and focused on hitting the button, which was lying temptingly on the table too. The first plate missed, but the second one struck square. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she felt ill, nauseous and about to collapse.  
  
Mr, Gruff scowled. “Did she just fucking call Gizmoduck?”  
  
“Did she?” Mr. Scar countered and scowled at Lena. “She’s more trouble than she’s worth. Just like that little bitch ‘Webby’.”  
  
 _Stop saying her name...it sounds wrong in your mouth...you’re fouling it up…_  
  
“But she’s the bait,” Mr. Gruff protested.  
  
“Then knock her the fuck out and see if Magica comes back,” Mr. Scar snapped. “We can’t have her conscious.”  
  
“Then can we…?”  
  
“If she doesn’t come back within the next day, then yes,” he said and smirked. “We’ll play with our new toy.”  
  
Lena snarled, fighting against her bindings and sending pain skyrocketing through her. Her vision blacked out again and she slumped in the chair. All the fight was gone from her and she whimpered. Her safety depended on Magica and her whims. And whether Gladstone could convince Magica to shape up.  
  
Gizmoduck hadn’t appeared the last two times he’d been summoned--well, he had, but too late, which Lena was counting against him. She wasn’t holding her breath for him to show now and she eyed Mr. Scar warily. He flexed his hands like he wanted to strangle her. She was about to stammer out an excuse for why they couldn’t kill her, but the gag in her mouth prevented conversation. With her arms dislocated, they were as good as bound anyway.  
  
Something crashed overhead and she flinched, gritting her teeth against the pain that followed. Mr. Scar and Mr. Gruff assumed defensive positions as the cavern wall crashed down. She could taste her heartbeat in her mouth.  
  
Here and improbably on time. She wouldn’t have to wait to see if Gladstone ever changed his tune. She was so relieved she almost passed out again.  
  
“That fucking bitch!” Mr. Gruff snarled and that was about all he had time to say before Gizmoduck slammed him into the wall and knocked him out.  
  
“Are you okay?” Gizmoduck asked her and she shook her head. She couldn’t really speak, not with the gag in her mouth, and it wasn’t like she could shrug.  
  
Mr. Scar pulled out a knife and rushed to Lena’s side, presumably to hold her at knifepoint. He didn’t reach her before Gizmoduck likewise knocked him out. This time, Lena did black out for a few seconds and when she came to, she found herself in Gizmoduck’s mechanical arms.  
  
“I don’t know how to reset your shoulders,” Gizmoduck said apologetically. “I’m going to have to take you to the hospital.”  
  
He’d removed her gag and she groaned, clenching her eyes shut against the nascent stabbing and burning that ran through her whenever he inadvertently jostled her.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said at her gasps. “I’m getting you there as fast as possible, I promise.”  
  
Lena clamped her beak shut against more involuntary cries. Gizmoduck meant well. Plus, with him doing his job, perhaps he’d be able to tell Scrooge where the Bloodhound Gang was and he could apprehend them. Lena wasn’t sure it’d work out that way, but she hoped it did.  
  
The pain was lulling her toward unconsciousness and she hung on. She lapsed into semi-consciousness instead and ignored Gizmoduck’s rambling. Her thoughts were fragmented and mostly consisted of worrying about Webby and whether the Bloodhound Gang would scramble now that she’d been rescued from them.  
  
She also spared a few seconds for Gladstone and Magica.  
  
Gizmoduck rushed her through the ER and got her seen quickly, perhaps because of their mutual ties to Scrooge McDuck. Money spoke in Duckberg. Resetting her shoulders definitely stirred her out of semi-consciousness, though, because bar none, that was the worst pain she’d ever been in. Any other thoughts were a fallacy.  
  
They gave her a sedative to help her sleep and she drifted off not long after. When she closed her eyes, she saw the Bloodhound Gang and Webby...and she reached out impotently toward the latter. She was the darkness to Webby’s light and she was oddly okay with that for the time being.  
  
\-----  
  
Webby noticed that although Donald had had a calming influence on his youngest nephew, Louie still seemed discontent with the situation. As for herself, she had a difficult time concentrating on anything. She knew she ought to be over the moon (literally and figuratively) that Della Duck had returned. In the past, she would’ve been brimming over with questions and probably bother Della half to death. Now her mind ran blank and she spent most of her time huddled in her cabin when she wasn’t forced to socialize.  
  
“I’m worried about you,” Dewey said, sticking his head in her room. She suppressed a sigh. Sometimes it felt like he and Louie were competing to show here which one of them cared more. Huey was concerned too, but he was torn between that and his mother. Dewey was too, to a greater extent, which was why she ought to be surprised he’d ventured in here. She wasn’t. She wasn’t anything right now.  
  
Webby should produce a bright smile and send him on his way. After all, his mother’s reappearance was more important than anything she could offer him. She ought to, but she couldn’t. Drained to the dregs between her fretting over Lena, wondering if she’d been abandoned again, the nightmares, and the real life events that had created them, Webby had nothing left to pretend with.  
  
“Can I come in?” he asked and she shrugged. He sat beside her.  
  
“Hey,” he said softly and placed his hand near hers without touching it. She wanted Lena so badly in that instant that her chest ached. She wanted to be with someone without pressure, without feeling she was disappointing someone by not responding the way they wanted. Louie, Dewey, and Lena were pulling her in three different directions.  
  
“I thought you’d be all over this,” he said. “You’re like a fangirl with the McDuck lore.”  
  
“Maybe I would’ve been…” she muttered and hugged her knees. Dewey draped an arm around her shoulders. She hated this. She wasn’t sure whether he genuinely cared or whether he was trying to “score points” in his battle with Louie. Was Dewey really here because he wanted to be? Or to lord it over his brother?  
  
“I mean it,” he said. “The fangirl thing and that I’m worried about you. You’re not like this.”  
  
Maybe she was now. Maybe this was what happened when someone destroyed her light. She hung her head.  
  
“You have to talk about it,” he pressed. “You can’t keep holding it in.”  
  
“Your mom just came back,” she mumbled, lifting her head and ignoring the tears burning the corners of her eyes. “She’s more important than me.”  
  
“But she’s been missing for ten years…” he started, uncertain.  
  
“Exactly,” she said. She didn’t know why she was pushing him away. It was like before with Lena, where she’d tried to chase her out of her bedroom. She wanted Dewey nearby, but she didn’t think she deserved him. Besides, she’d meant what she’d said. Their mother took precedence over her.  
  
“Your mom’s been missing for so long and you finally have a chance to get to know her,” she said. “You should do it. You were desperate to find out about her and now you can.”  
  
“What I meant is that I’ve known you for longer than her, technically,” he said. “And we’re friends, aren’t we? You tell friends things.”  
  
“You got back the person you lost,” she burst out. “Granny’s never coming back. My parents abandoned me when I was barely hatched. You should enjoy the time with the family you have. I’m not family.”  
  
“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice rising. The door opened again and Louie and Huey were the other side. The room wasn’t large enough to accommodate all four of them, so the other two boys stood outside.  
  
“I’m not your sister,” she snapped. “I’m a Vanderquack, not a Duck. Or a McDuck.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” Huey said. “You’re hurting yourself.”  
  
Webby had no reply for that. After a few terse moments, she regarded the triplets.  
  
“Why are you here and not with your mom?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Because we love you,” Dewey said. “Like I said, we love you and we’re worried about you. You have to talk to us. You didn’t want to talk to us when Mrs. Beakley died and that’s okay, we get that. But it’s been one thing after another with you and you haven’t told us about any of it. You didn’t even tell us what the Bloodhound Gang did. We had to find out secondhand.”  
  
She didn’t even know where to start. It felt like she was a coil wound up so tightly she couldn’t tell where she began and ended. Tears streaked her cheeks and Dewey hugged her. Louie and Huey tried to enter the cabin anyway and got stuck in the doorway. Eventually, Huey came in and Louie did too. The cabin was too cramped and Huey wound up in the doorway again. Louie grabbed her hand and Dewey wrapped his arms around her.  
  
“Let it out, Webs,” Dewey said.  
  
She looked up when she heard the sound of stumbling, a cane clattering, and then Huey and Scrooge yelping. Confused, she swiped at her eyes.  
  
“You know, it’d be easier if you came out of there, lass,” Scrooge said. “This spaceship isn’t big enough for all of you in one cabin.”  
  
“Okay, I know we’re all here because we’re worried about Webby, but why are you here?” Louie asked.  
  
“I got a ping from Gizmoduck,” Scrooge said. “We’re close enough to Earth’s atmosphere to send and receive messages, if they’re short enough. He didn’t say very much because of the time constraint, but he did mention Lena.”  
  
Webby bolted upright. “Lena?”  
  
“Aye, lass, he has her. And she’s in the hospital,” he said.  
  
“What? Why?” she exclaimed.  
  
“That I don’t know,” he answered. “We couldn’t send more than a few seconds worth of message back and forth.”  
  
“Can’t you call him back?” she begged. “I need to talk to him. I need to see her.”  
  
“It’s late in Duckberg,” he said. “You’ll have to wait a few hours.”  
  
“I can’t wait!” she protested. “What if she’s seriously hurt? What was she doing that she needed Gizmoduck to rescue her?”  
  
Scrooge’s expression darkened. “I have suspicions about that.”  
  
“You don’t think she went after the Gang by herself, do you?” Huey asked.  
  
“I do,” he said. “And I think she was in over her head.”  
  
He scowled. “There’s one more thing. I contacted McDuck Manor and Gladstone answered. With Magica.”  
  
“What?!” the four children exclaimed.  
  
“What is Magica’s doing over  _our_  house?” Dewey said.  
  
“Magica and Gladstone had an affair years back,” Scrooge said. His eyes flashed. “They must’ve rekindled the spark.”  
  
“Wait, our Uncle Gladstone had a fling with Magica?” Dewey said. “Your sworn enemy.”  
  
“There are times when other body parts dictate relationships,” Scrooge said, gripping his cane tightly. “I am going to have to have a talk with Gladstone when we get back. Lena too for a different reason.”  
  
“She could’ve been killed…” Webby said, whose mind had latched onto Lena and would not be budged from her.  
  
“She could’ve been,” Scrooge agreed. “She was very lucky, which makes me wonder, along with Gladstone being at the Manor, what exactly is going on here.”  
  
“Man, that’s too gross to even joke about,” Louie said. “Anyone else it’d be funny. But Magica?”  
  
“I know,” Scrooge said. “A  _long_  conversation with Gladstone.”  
  
He pushed past his grand-nephews to stroke Webby’s hair and head feathers. “You should probably talk to Lena too when we get back. Convince her not to go running off into danger because she thinks she’s helping.”  
  
“How is getting captured helping?” Huey asked.  
  
“I suspect she didn’t anticipate being captured,” Scrooge said. “Or else she thought that she could find them and bring them to my attention regardless of what happened to her.”  
  
“That’s...suicidal,” Webby said quietly. “Why would Lena do that?”  
  
“You just answered your own question,” Scrooge said and shook his head. “I’d ask Launchpad if we can get there any faster, but I don’t want to crash into Duckberg.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge gets his revenge on the Bloodhound Gang for attacking Webby and attempting to attack Lena. Magica is a nympho, Lena and Webby talk about Lena's actions, and Magica visits Lena. (A reference to Ariana Grande's "Side to Side" is made).

After five times, Magica was finally satiated. She was going to walk strangely for a few days if she didn’t heal herself, but it was totally worth it. Besides, she’d used her magic to ensure Gladstone could keep going. That was more important than healing herself.

She sighed, curled up against Gladstone on the couch. Seeing as he was asleep, she permitted herself the luxury of letting her guard down. He really was quite attractive and he made her heart skip beats. True, her whole lower body was tingling from his ministrations and she kissed him on the beak again.

She could admit to herself that she might have feelings for him. Whether she admitted it to him was another story, but she might if she allowed herself to explore the feelings she had, grow to love him in time. She remembered what Lena had said, about her not having enough light in her to love anyone, and sighed. If she permitted herself to love Gladstone, then she had to do something about her niece. She couldn’t leave her in the company of pedophiles.

But she was tired and basking in the afterglow of sex. She didn’t want to move. Damn it, Gladstone was so good. His luck also meant that he hit the right spots every time. She nuzzled him and kissed him on the cheek.

She’d thrown her dress somewhere and groaned when her phone within it buzzed. Oh, c’mon. She was basking. Post-coital bliss was so good. Whatever it was could wait. Unless someone was dying and she was missing out, she didn’t want to know.

Gladstone nuzzled her back and she started, surprised.

“You’re awake?” she said.

“Mmm…” he said, sounding like he was, at best, half-awake. He kissed her on the cheek and she blushed. After what they’d done, blushing over something so innocent was ridiculous, but it showed more affection than she thought having sex had done. She turned over to snuggle against him.

“Your phone’s ringing…” Gladstone murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Shut it off…”

She waved her hand and smashed the phone to pieces with a nearby lamp with her magic. Problem solved.

Closing her eyes, she cuddled in his arms. She was so comfortable. The world could be going to pieces, but everything was all right here. The only thing that would make it better would be having Scrooge’s number one dime. But, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

And amazing sex five times in one day almost beat out the dime. Almost.

\----

Lena was floating somewhere; the painkillers were wonderful. It was like getting high, except without the fear of getting caught. Well, that and without Magica’s recrimination on getting high in the first place. She’d only done it a few times. Get over it, Aunt Magica. And she’d only done pot, nothing serious.

But this was better. She was no longer crying from the strain and her arms were back in their sockets. The only thing that would’ve made this better would be if Webby were here. She had no idea what Gizmoduck had sent to the spaceship, although she didn’t have it in her to be annoyed with him right now. She was too content to drift on this lovely high.

She didn’t know how Magica had any ground to stand on regarding her prior drug use. She’d been a homeless, troubled teenager who was bored, lonely, and desperate to gain approval. After the high had faded, though, she’d been twice as miserable.

She’d never told Webby this. Webby wouldn’t approve and she was afraid that the rest of the McDuck family would think she shouldn’t be around her. Lena choked back a giggle that sounded hysterical to her own ears. Mrs. Beakley definitely wouldn’t have said she was a good kid after that.

Then she’d killed her. The laughter died. True, it’d been Magica wielding her body, but she’d done so much damage with Magica possessing her. That was enough to harsh her buzz. She rolled over as best she could, considering her arms were in casts, and felt horribly alone again. Everything was her fault and Webby had every right to dump her after this.

She didn’t have any pain, but she also wasn’t happy anymore. Sometime during her recent unconsciousness, she’d lost Webby’s bow. She groaned. What did that say about her, that she kept losing things of Webby’s? She wasn’t trustworthy, was she?

Speaking of lost time, she didn’t know what day it was or when the others were returning. Would they know she was here? Had the Bloodhound Gang escaped during that time? Was she the reason they had? Would Scrooge have had more luck if she hadn’t shoved her beak where it didn’t belong?

When she fell back asleep, her dreams were heavy and burdensome, full of portents and remorse over what had befallen her best friend.

\----

After the trouble they’d gone through to get Della, the ride back was surprisingly uneventful. Louie remained suspicious of his mother, Huey and Dewey were trying to balance their badgering their mother with Webby’s reluctance to speak, and Webby was usually hiding out in the cabin. They hadn’t heard anything further from Gizmoduck regarding Lena, but Gizmoduck had accomplished something Scrooge had been attempting to do for over a month.

He’d captured the Bloodhound Gang, what was left of it. They were in jail right now awaiting Scrooge’s judgment. With Della back at his side and vengeance within his grasp, Scrooge was in a pleasant, albeit somewhat dark, mood. The Bloodhound Gang would stand trial for rape, but Scrooge wanted a crack at them first. One of them was in the hospital with a broken kneecap, courtesy of Lena.

When they arrived back in Duckberg, Donald helped Della move back in, though she didn’t really have any belongings to worry about. Scrooge went straight to the jail to deal with the Bloodhound Gang and Webby rushed to the hospital. Lena was still in ICU with two dislocated shoulders and Webby nearly crashed into a nurse in her haste to reach her.

She skipped into the room and found Lena sitting by herself and attempting to turn on the TV with both arms in casts. Lena turned her head when she saw Webby.

“Hey,” she said and offered her a tiny smile. “So. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Webby bounded over to her and hugged her. She had to be careful, however, not to jostle anything sensitive. She rested her head on her chest briefly and beamed at her.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” she asked. “I was worried about you!”

“I tried to apprehend the Bloodhound Gang for you,” Lena replied. “It didn’t go as expected.”

“Did they hurt you?” Webby asked. “Is that why your arms in casts?”

“No, that was Magica,” Lena said and her expression darkened. “She had me stuck to the ceiling and then when I could barely balance, she kicked my feet out from under me and pulled my arms out of their sockets.”

“But the Bloodhound Gang didn’t hurt you, right?” Webby pressed and scanned her friend’s body as if she could tell just by looking whether they’d assaulted her. Her stomach heaved and she hugged her tighter. She scrambled up onto the bed so she could curl up against her.

“They got handsy, but that was about it,” she reassured her. She frowned. “I didn’t mean to make you freak out. You have enough on your plate.”

Webby leaned in and pecked Lena on the cheek. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She glanced at her and then blushed. “Well...you’re not ‘okay’. But you’re not, you know…”

“I know,” she reassured her.

“I thought you’d left town,” Webby confessed. “Uncle Scrooge thought you might’ve wanted to get hurt, that you were reckless.”

“I wanted to help you,” she said and her expression darkened. “I wanted to make up for what I’d let happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Webby said. “None of it was. Don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head. “I…”

She stopped herself.

“You what?” Webby asked with a frown. She nuzzled her and since Lena couldn’t bring her arms in to hug her, she hugged her extra tight. Unable to resist, she raised herself and kissed her on the beak. She’d been so worried and even though Lena was injured, she was okay. She hadn’t tried to flee.

“It’s not important,” Lena said and then, perhaps to take the sting out of it, she leaned forward and kissed her back. Webby sensed some tentativeness and frowned, pulling away. Something was wrong.

“I thought we agreed after we defeated Magica that we wouldn’t keep any more secrets from each other,” Webby said.

Lena frowned and turned her head away. “I told you--it’s not important.”

“It is important,” she pressed and sat back on her knees. “I thought we were best friends. Or more than that. You promised you’d tell me if it was a big secret, Lena.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she repeated.

“If it’s not a big deal, then why won’t you tell me?” she countered.

 

“You’re going to get upset with me,” she said and rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Webby felt like shaking her, but knew that jostling her in her condition would probably exacerbate her injuries. Why was Lena being deliberately obtuse? And how was she supposed to know what would upset her when she wouldn’t tell her?

“It’s not ‘nothing’,” Webby returned. “The more you keep it from me, the more I want to know.”

“You have to promise not to get mad at me,” Lena cautioned.

“What is it already?” Webby demanded.

“I thought, with the way I led you into danger and then caused you to get hurt and lose your grandmother, maybe I…”

“Maybe you what?” Webby asked, confused by Lena’s train of thought.

“Deserved it,” she finished in a whisper.

“What on earth would make you think you deserved it?” Webby exclaimed. “You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you.”

Lena shrugged. “After you spend your life being shat on, you kinda just accept that you must’ve done something to merit it. So, here I am. With two dislocated shoulders. I must’ve done something.”

“Magica did all of that to you,” she protested. “You didn’t do any of it. Why would you blame yourself?”

“Webby…” Lena said and tried to straighten up. “You had a loving grandmother who cared about you and raised you to defend yourself and tried to protect you the best she could. I had Aunt Magica. I could never do anything right in her eyes. So I internalized it.”

She shrugged and then winced in pain. “You’re so lucky. You have a family who cares about you and wants the best for you.”

“You could have that too,” Webby replied. “You could live with us and we’d take care of you too. And you wouldn’t have to be so reckless.

“Gizmoduck caught the Bloodhound Gang, by the way.”

Lena’s beak quirked. “Great. I’m a damsel in distress.”

Webby cupped Lena’s face in her hands. “You helped. If he hadn’t had to rescue you, he wouldn’t have been to subdue them and bring them in. And you did break one of their kneecaps.”

“Go me,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. “I lost your ribbon.”

“I’ll get another one,” Webby replied and curled up against her again. She stroked her face and kissed her on the beak again. “I love you.”

Lena managed a small smile and Webby nuzzled her. She didn’t understand how Lena could hate herself when she was so incredible. Why didn’t Lena see herself like Webby did? She’d endured so much and finally stepped out of Magica’s shadow to become her true self. The older duck was so strong.

“I’ll love you even when you don’t love yourself,” she promised.

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Lena said and rolled her eyes again. Webby kissed her cheek and played with her hair.

Webby, lying on her side, kissed Lena on the beak again. Lena didn’t pull back this time and her arms twitched like she wanted to hold her.

“One more thing--we came back to Duckberg and found Magica and Gladstone in the mansion,” Webby said. “Uncle Scrooge was pretty upset...especially since they were both, you know…”

She blushed and Lena groaned.

“Instead of helping me, he got laid,” Lena said. “If I could facepalm, I would. Then again, he’s supposed to be the luckiest duck in the universe. So I guess...ugh. I do not want to think about that.”

“Wait, Gladstone was supposed to help you out?”

“He was supposed to talk Magica into rescuing me,” Lena said. “See how well that worked out.”

Webby, wishing she could think of something better to comfort her, continued stroking Lena’s hair. It was oddly soothing and the tension she’d felt on the spaceship seemed to evaporate. Maybe she could talk to Lena. She hadn’t been able to really speak with the boys. That reminded her…

She bolted upright again. “When you say they got ‘handsy’, what do you mean?”

“Webby, I’m all right,” she said. “They didn’t touch anything besides my thighs and my stomach.”

She smiled weakly. “Are you defending my honor?”

“Someone has to,” she countered and Lena chuckled. Lena turned as best she could and nuzzled Webby right back. Warmth blossomed in Webby’s chest and they rubbed beaks.

“You’re my knight in shining armor, huh?” Lena teased.

“You said you were a damsel in distress,” Webby replied. “Or maybe you’re the princess stuck in the tower and Magica’s the dragon.”

“Does that make Gladstone Donkey?” she asked and Webby stared at her blankly. “Wow. You haven’t seen Shrek. What a sheltered life you led.”

“I’m not sheltered now,” she reminded her and felt somber. Lena groaned.

“I can’t hug you thanks to Magica,” she complained. “Just pretend I’m holding you, okay?”

Webby rubbed their beaks together again and Lena smiled softly.

“How long are you staying?” Lena asked.

“Uh, until Launchpad comes back from the jail,” Webby answered. “Not sure how long that’s going to take. I guess it depends on how angry Uncle Scrooge is.”

“You’d better settle in,” she advised. “And turn the TV on. Scrooge is gonna be a while.”

\----

Barring the last Bloodhound Gang member that Lena had dubbed “Mr. Squeakers” who was in the hospital, the Gang was there, all two of them. Scrooge paced in front of them; he was so angry that his throat had closed up and his thoughts raced. It turned out that the Gang had a rap sheet. Petty larceny, arson, nothing major, up until they’d started chasing little girls. Webby wasn’t the first they’d attacked, but she was the first big mistake they’d made. No one else had the money and resources to make their lives miserable like Scrooge McDuck.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” the bulldog with a mustache demanded. Scrooge knew that the leader, the one who attacked Webby, had died by her hands. He also knew that the remaining members had tried to molest Lena. His sympathy, if he’d had any, was gone.

“You abused my niece and you expect me to, what? Exchange social niceties with you?” Scrooge snapped. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

“Technically, the guy who did that is dead, so you could just let us go…” the bulldog with the mustache said. “We didn’t do anything to your niece.”

“Silence!” Scrooge snarled and slammed his cane through the bars. It connected with the mustached bulldog and hit him square in the center of the forehead. “Over my dead body are you leaving custody unless it’s in a body bag.”

“But we didn’t rape her,” the other bulldog protested. He was whining and Scrooge spun around to deliver a blow that left the bars ringing. Given the narrow maneuverability, he only managed to poke the dog’s nose. It was fairly hard, though, and blood gushed from the nasal cavity Scrooge had hit with the hooked part of his cane.

“You held her down,” Scrooge snapped. “And I didn’t come here to listen to your stupid excuses.”

“Then why are you here?” the bleeding bulldog asked, although it was difficult to figure out what he was saying beyond the nose bleed. Blood dripped down his chin and Scrooge was darkly amused. If he weren’t a good person, he might’ve wanted to kill them himself. The temptation was there, but they were in police custody. Gizmoduck had brought them here himself. The DPD wouldn’t appreciate him murdering their criminals, regardless of how much they deserved it.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been responsible for someone’s death. The knowledge and rage built within him and he wished he could ask someone to unlock the cell so he could personally deliver their vengeance. He trembled in fury.

“I’m here because I had to see you in person,” he bit off. “And to warn you that if you somehow, by some miracle, make bail and try to flee Duckberg, I will track you down personally and a court appearance will be the least of your troubles.”

“What are you saying?” the other bulldog protested.

Scrooge yanked him closer with his cane and whispered, too low for the camera to catch, “I will kill you myself.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that? You’re an old man,” he sneered.

Okay, forget being circumspect. He could always pay off the police if they had a problem with this. Besides, they’d left him alone with the keys. It was almost like they had intended for this to happen.

He unlocked the cell and the gruff gang member sneered. “That’s what I thought.”

His gruffness only lasted as long as it took Scrooge to aim his cane between his legs so hard that he might’ve squished something. The other gang member retreated, but there was nowhere for him to go. Scrooge had carried a metal cane on purpose today. He laid into them until he was satisfied; they were a bleeding, broken mess and he locked the door behind him.

“Gentlemen,” he sneered as he left.

Groans issued in response.

Snorting, Scrooge told the jailer to mention that the Bloodhound Gang had had an “accident” and greased a few palms to ensure that was the official story. He walked briskly out the door and toward the limo. Launchpad was staring at him with his beak agape.

“What?” Scrooge demanded.

“You, uh, you have blood on your face. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said brusquely. “It’s not mine.”

“It’s not yours? Then whose is it? What happened in there? Are you hurt?”

“I’m not the one who’s hurt,” he said darkly. “Do I pay you to ask questions? No? Then we need to get to the hospital and pick up Webby.”

“O-kay…” Launchpad said. “I was just concerned because, you know, you don’t usually have blood on your feathers…”

He also didn’t normally beat the shit out of people with his cane. Discreetly, he grabbed a cloth near the mini bar and wiped off his cane. Webby didn’t need to see that. He also wiped off his face and stared at his reflection. He still looked savage; she didn’t need to know what he’d done either. The last thing she needed was to find out her uncle had a dark side.

He only regretted that Webby had killed their leader before he had a chance to strangle the brute himself. However, if anyone should’ve killed him, it was her. Someone that age, though, with her first kill...it did things to the mind. Lena seemed to be a stabilizing influence, thankfully. When she was recovered enough to leave the hospital, he’d need to bring her home with him too. Webby could use her around the mansion.

Before that, however, he needed to have a serious conversation with Gladstone. And burn that couch. The boys had already noticed it and he’d ordered Launchpad to remove it from the premises. It reeked and rankled him. Magica and Gladstone had definitely broken it in.

If he’d been in a better mood, it might’ve reminded him of his escapades with Goldie. But he wasn’t and it didn’t. If Gladstone wanted to consort with their enemies, then he could do it outside McDuck Manor. Scrooge ground his teeth. He wanted to throttle his nephew.

Either Launchpad’s driving was getting better or he was determined not to irritate Scrooge, because they didn’t crash more than twice en route. He rolled his eyes at Launchpad parking in a fire zone and made his way toward Webby and Lena. When he reached Lena’s room, he found Webby hugging her tightly while they made fun of a BBC show. He was reluctant to separate them; Webby was smiling and snuggling against Lena.

“It’s time to go home, lass,” Scrooge called and Webby groaned. Lena’s eyes widened when she turned her head.

“You have blood on your top hat,” she informed him.

Scrooge cursed inwardly. “Uh, must’ve forgotten to wash it after I hit Glomgold back on the moon.”

“Uh huh,” Lena said, raising her eyebrows. “Sure.”

Webby frowned, clearly debating whether she ought to ask further or let the matter lie.

“Can we bring Lena home?” she asked instead.

“When they release her,” he said. He stroked Webby’s feathers affectionately. Lena rolled her eyes; families were a sore spot with her. To make Lena feel better, he touched the pink lock of her hair.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked, flinching at the touch.

“I’m not going to hurt you, lass,” he said. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to live at the mansion. Permanently.”

He removed his hand and she shivered. Webby stroked her hair to soothe her and Lena settled at her touch. It looked like the only person Lena trusted was Webby. Then again, she hadn’t shown up here with blood on her clothes. Damn, how had he missed the hat?

“Sure,” Lena said, pretending like it was nothing. She attempted nonchalance. “I can live there. I practically live there anyway.”

“Yes, you do,” Webby agreed. She kissed her on the cheek. “Are you sure we can’t take her home now, Uncle Scrooge?”

“I’m quite sure, lass,” he said. “The doctors are going to want to keep an eye on her for a few days. Come, Webby. It’s time to go.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised the older teen. She kissed her on the beaks and said in an undertone, “I love you.”

Lena’s features lit up at Webby’s confession. Scrooge fought a frown. How often had Lena heard those words before she and Magica had separated? Was Webby the first person to say that to her? Damn Magica.

“I love you too,” Lena whispered back. “I’d hug you, but you know.”

“I can’t call you,” Webby said, frowning. “You can’t answer the phone.”

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised her. “You’d better go.”

“I’ll be back,” Webby promised again as if she expected Scrooge to deny her. Scrooge took Webby’s hand in his own and they walked back to the elevator. He could feel Lena’s eyes on them as they walked away. The last talk he’d had with her hadn’t happened. He needed to make time to impress upon her how much Webby cared for her and how she deserved a good home. Somehow, he thought the latter was more important right now and less likely for her to believe.

If only he could solve all of his problems by hitting them. He didn’t normally resort to violence, but he’d been on edge for far too long. And after what he’d done with the Bloodhound Gang, he thought he’d refrain for a while, lest he alarm anyone.

“So, who did you hit?” Webby asked and startled him. He stopped in mid-step.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“You have more blood on your suit,” she said. “If Lena noticed, you know I did too. And I know you were at the jail--did you attack the Bloodhound Gang?”

He groaned. “How long have you known?”

“Since you came in the room,” she said. “You were favoring your right leg and your knuckles are swollen. Even without seeing the blood, I knew you’d been in a fight.”

“Sometimes I forget how clever you are, lass,” he said and she rewarded him with a smile. “But that’ll be the last brawl I get into for a while.”

She nodded, her smile vanishing as she glanced up at the hospital.

“She’ll be out soon,” he promised. “Would I lie to you?”

“No…” she said but she was frowning. They could barely see Lena’s window from here, but it looked like a shadow was moving in it. Was that the source of Webby’s distress? What was going on up there?

\----

“You’re not dead,” Magica said.

“You sound disappointed,” Lena countered.

“I didn’t want you dead. If I wanted you dead, you’d know it,” Magica returned.

Her aunt had her hands on her hips and walked around Lena’s bed. Lena stiffened, wishing she had a way to defend herself. Even Magica’s gaze was searing.

“Oh? So it’s you I have to thank for being here?” Lena said and then scowled. “Oh, wait. It is.”

“Don’t be rebellious,” she scoffed. “Emo hipster.”

Lena rolled her eyes back at her. “Why are you here?”

“I told Gladstone I would check on you,” she said. “You’re lucky I’m feeling in a generous mood. I’ve decided to forgive your betrayal for now and might grant you a favor.”

“Your favors always come with strings attached,” she said sourly and then frowned deeper. Magica wasn’t walking straight and Lena laughed.

“Side to side, huh?” she said with a cruel smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Magica informed her stiffly. “Now, I assume that you want to be healed. You should be rewarded anyway. You used magic!”

“Because it was either that or sit there and let them rape me,” Lena said. “It’s not an accomplishment. It was desperation.”

Magica waved that off. “I can’t heal you completely--or I won’t--but I can expedite your healing. Just say the word.”

“No. I won’t be beholden to you for anything,” she said and clenched her eyes shut. Why had Scrooge taken Webby away from her? Magica’s company was no company at all.

“Am I hearing a ‘yes’?”

“Is that what you said to Gladstone?” Lena countered.

“You know, I’m trying to help you and you’re being very rude, Lena,” Magica informed her. “It’s almost like you don’t want my help.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“Have it your way,” she said and shrugged. Lena glared at her. It was almost like Magica was flaunting that she could shrug because she didn’t have any nasty injuries. Lena had almost forgotten how much she detested her.

“By the way, if you see a certain couch that was in the living room outside and on fire, just know it was my gift to you and Scroogie,” she informed her and then sauntered out. Lena groaned. What had that couch done to deserve its fate?

Then again, what had Lena done other than be hatched? She sighed, closing her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for TV anymore but couldn’t turn it off. It’d switched to a hoarding show and she was beyond uninterested. She was stuck for the time being. Unless…

She reached for the remote with that strange mental power she’d harnessed, the one that felt like she was tearing an arm out of her mind, and shut the TV off. The remote clattered to the floor and Lena sighed. Well, that was better than nothing.

Too bad her control was clumsy at best. Maybe her powers amounted to being able to turn buttons on and off. That’d be pathetic.

Lena curled up as best as she could. There was going to be a long, empty night before she saw Webby again.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louie doesn't want to share Webby and realizes his mom is making her best effort to get to know her sons. Magica is actually sort of helpful(?) and Lena and Webby are confirmed girlfriends.

Lena was supposed to be coming here to live and Louie hated it. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anyone else, he would’ve shrugged it off and just ignored them. But it was Lena, the girl who kept jerking Webby around and had also brought all of this down on them. His part of the family hadn’t sustained any permanent damage, but Webby had lost her grandmother. No one hurt his family and no one tricked his family but him.

Webby was a strange case, in that he loved her, but not like a sister. Huey regarded her like a sister, but he and Dewey didn’t. They couldn’t. Dewey, however, didn’t blame Lena. Dewey thought Lena was a victim of circumstance. Louie could see that angle, but he didn’t agree. Everyone had free will.

Added to that was his mother. He didn’t know how he felt about her. The little boy that lived within him resented that she’d come back at all because it stirred up resentment that she’d left them. He was jealous whenever his brothers spent time with her because he felt like they were hogging her. It was an immature reaction, but he was only a kid. He’d yet to have a moment alone with her.

Webby was at the hospital with Lena. Huey was showing their mom something in the JWG and Dewey was talking about the elaborate way they’d tried to discover what had happened to her and the  _Spear of Silene_. Louie shuffled over, not expecting to receive any attention. His hands were bunched in his hoodie.

Sometimes having siblings sucked. He missed the Day of the Only Child, though he didn’t miss Doofus. That was one creepy mofo.

“Louie?” his mom said and Louie looked up as if she might be addressing someone else. For a few seconds, he thought maybe there was someone else with his name. No, she was looking right after him.

“I haven’t had a chance to really talk to you,” she said. “Every time I seek you out, you’re elsewhere.”

Yeah, that was on purpose. Seeing her hurt because he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold onto her. Therefore, he removed himself from the picture. Della rose to her feet and hugged him. Dewey and Huey, of course, latched onto her too.

“I know you’re worried about Webby,” she said.

“We all are,” Dewey said as if daring Louie to contradict him. Louie shot his older brother a dirty look, which Dewey returned.

Taking Louie’s hand out of his hoodie, she held one of his hands and one of Dewey’s. Gently, she said, “You know, I bet this mansion has changed since I’ve last been here. Why don’t you guys give me the grand tour?”

“I don’t know if it’s changed that much--” Dewey said and Louie kicked him. Their mother was making a gesture. True, he still hated that he had to share his brothers with her and feared her abandoning them again, but he would try to appreciate it for what it was. Huey took up the lead and didn’t look jealous, amazingly. Louie squeezed his mother’s hand.

“It feels so strange. I feel like I should know everything about you,” Della said. “I should’ve been there for all your big milestones and I wasn’t.”

_Because you had to go up on a ‘test run’_ , Louie thought but didn’t say. They were having a moment and he was determined not to ruin it by being petty, no matter how tempting that was.

“So why don’t you tell me a little about yourselves?” she suggested. “I already know that you, Huey, are a Junior Woodchuck and you always consult the guide whenever you’re questioning something. And I know that you, Dewey, take after me and Uncle Scrooge as a little adventurer.”

She frowned. “But Louie, everything I know about you is secondhand.”

Louie shrugged. “I’m the one who’s going somewhere in this family. I know how to make a buck.”

“He does,” Huey agreed. “He was trying to con people out of their money at the hospital.”

“Once. I did that  _once_ ,” he replied, rolling his eyes. He glanced up at his mother and bit back the question that his inner child wanted to ask, which was whether she loved them yet. How could she? She barely knew them. And he wasn’t about to ask that, because he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of nothing.

Della smiled gently at them as if their arguments didn’t bother her. Perhaps they didn’t. After all, she’d missed over ten years of them.

That stoked his resentment, which he swallowed back with difficulty. Uncle Donald was outside, probably dealing with the houseboat, which meant he couldn’t run to him either. (Not that he would, because he wasn’t a little kid).

“Donald and I grew up here,” Della continued. “Now you’re growing up here.”

“Yeah...did Uncle Donald tell you that he and Uncle Scrooge weren’t talking for years? That they stopped right after you disappeared?” Louie asked and the other two boys shot him dirty looks. He shrugged again. What? What was the harm in telling it like it was?

“Donald did tell me,” she said and frowned. “I understand you boys have been on some adventures.”

“Didn’t get to keep any of the treasure, though,” Louie grumped.

“Yeah, Uncle Scrooge is picky like that,” Della agreed and her frown lifted. “‘I didn’t get to where I am today by giving things away.’”

“‘I got there by tougher than the toughies and smarter than the smarties’,” the boys recited and she, Huey, and Dewey laughed. Louie didn’t join in; he didn’t feel as close as the other two did to Mom. How hard would it be to get her alone for some one on one time?

It’d probably be just as difficult as getting Webby alone once Lena arrived. Ugh. Why did he have to share everyone he loved with everyone else? It wasn’t that he hated being a triplet. It was just that sometimes he wanted one thing he could keep to himself. Of course, he should’ve known that Webby would go for Lena. Lena wasn’t Louie’s type, per se, but if he’d had a type, it would’ve been her.

The only girl he was interested in was Webby and even there, he wasn’t sure if it was a crush or something else entirely. He meant what he’d said, that he thought she’d be better off with him.

“Other than adventuring, what do you boys do for fun?” she asked.

Louie, at this moment, had pulled out his cell phone and was scrolling through to see whether anyone he followed had updated. He followed Webby and Lena under a different name, one he thought they wouldn’t recognize. Lena used to post all the time before the showdown with Magica. She hadn’t posted anything lately, maybe due to her injury. And Webby--Webby always posted adorable animal videos interspersed with martial arts and anything else that struck her fancy. Webby was eclectic. It must be why he liked her.

That and she was fun, albeit a bit hyper at times. Or she had been, before the incidents a month ago. 

“We haven’t had a lot of downtime in a while,” Dewey said. “We were fighting Magica and then this whole thing with Webby and the Bloodhound Gang and then Magica again…”

Della’s beak pressed tightly together. “I see. She was missing for fifteen years and suddenly, she’s in your face.”

“Pretty much,” Louie agreed, not looking up from his phone. It created a shield, a bubble between him and the rest of the world.

“You know, ten years ago, cell phones were not as ubiquitous,” Della said. “You wouldn’t see kids walking around with them.”

Louie shrugged. “They must’ve had deprived lives.”

“No, not really,” she said. “They spent time with their family and friends.”

He got what she was hinting at and bristled, looking up to glower at her. “I spend time with my family and friends. What am I doing right now?”

“Ignoring me,” his mother said gently.

“I am not!” he huffed and put the phone away. “There. See? I can communicate like an underprivileged kid.”

Della rolled her eyes.

Huey shot Louie a look and Louie shrugged again. He knew his oldest brother was upset with him for being so defensive. Behind all that defensiveness was fear. Couldn’t Huey see that? He was supposed to be the nerdy one. Surely he could tell when Louie was putting up a front.

“Where did Uncle Scrooge chase Magica?” Della asked, mildly amused.

“Probably back to Uncle Gladstone’s place,” Dewey said. “We did not need to see or smell that coming home.”

“Yes, well, they’ve never been particularly discreet about their trysts,” Della said, scowling. “I’m surprised he didn’t spend the fifteen years she was missing scouring the world for her.”

“They’re really an item?” Huey asked, surprised.

“Whatever capacity she has for love is bound up in him,” Della answered. “I can’t really see it, but then again, Gladstone has always been able to charm people. It used to drive your uncle crazy, especially when Gladstone tried charming away anyone Donald had hooked. Then Magica appeared on Gladstone’s horizon and that was it.”

“It’s kinda gross to think about,” Dewey said.

“Because they’re adults or because it’s Magica?”

“The latter,” the trio said and grimaced. They hated when they spoke in unison. They tended to get stuck in loops that way. When they were younger, they had spoken more simultaneously, but their individual personalities had prevented them from becoming a hive mind. Louie did not want to sublimate his individuality to become a single entity with his brothers.

“Magica’s family is strange,” Della mused. “I was surprised when you told me she had a niece. Poe always seemed to flit in and out of her life. Donald told me Poe was stuck as a raven about ten years ago and vanished.”

“Poe is Lena’s dad?” Dewey asked.

Louie was tempted to ask “who cares?” but he did care. Besides, this was interesting. No one ever delved into anyone’s history, nothing beyond a few pithy sentences. Della knew the whole McDuck’s sordid history. He wasn’t happy about putting away his phone, but this could be more promising.

“I assume so,” she replied. “Magica has no other siblings. I don’t know who her mother is. Then again, it wasn’t like we were best friends even before I got trapped on the dark side of the moon. Gladstone was the link. And Donald hates him.”

She smiled. “Well, maybe ‘hates’ is too strong a word, but he’s always resented that Gladstone chased Daisy off the altar.”

“Wait, Uncle Donald was going to get married?” Huey said. That was news to them.

“He really doesn’t talk about himself, does he?” she mused. “Yes, he was. I’m guessing by your not knowing who Daisy is, that you haven’t met her.”

“Nope,” Dewey confirmed. “Never even heard of her.”

“That’s a shame,” Della said. “What about the Three Caballeros?”

“The three what now?” Louie said.

“He must’ve been very lonely while I’ve been gone,” she said and shook her head.

“He had us,” Louie said, a tad defensively.

Della pursed her beak like she wanted to say something, but swallowed it back. It was probably something along the line of “spending time with children is not the same as keeping adult company” and while he was glad she didn’t say it, part of him was stung that she’d thought it. Or that he thought she had. He couldn’t prove it.

“I was pretty lonely without him,” she said and shook her head again. “Selene visited me--”

“Selene told us she didn’t know what happened to you!” Dewey burst out, indignant.

Della scowled. “She lied to you?”

“Wow, an adult lying to us. What a surprise,” Louie said sarcastically.

“I’d like to think she had a good reason for that,” she said. “Other than wanting to keep me to herself.”

“You and the Goddess of the Moon were a thing too?” Dewey said and the boys halted, gaping at her. Della flushed.

“Storkules tried putting the moves on Donald too, but he was more resistant,” she said.

“Man, why didn’t Donald tell us any of this?” Louie complained.

“Probably because it reminded him of me, which made it painful,” she said softly. She hugged the boys to her. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days and I haven’t been there for you before, but I won’t leave again. I promise. I love you.”

When they didn’t say it back, she added, “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way yet. You don’t know me. But maybe, in time, you’ll change your mind. I’ll be waiting. Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d believe it when he saw it. How much could she expect him to take on faith? Faith only got you so far.

But...he wanted to love her. A lump formed in his throat and he hugged her back suddenly, fiercely. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and he swallowed back the urge to beg her not to leave. He was fine. Perfectly fine.

He’d been better hiding behind his cell phone, but he was okay. He promised himself that. Unfortunately, while Louie could pull the wool over some people’s eyes, he’d never been good at conning himself.

\----

“You know, you could act happier to see me,” Magica commented when she waltzed in on Lena and Webby curled up together on Lena’s bed. Webby glared hatefully at the sorceress and Lena ignored her completely. If anything, Webby’s grip tightened on the older girl; they’d been watching TV before Magica’s arrival, an intrusion neither girl felt was welcome.

“Why are you here?” Webby asked flatly.

“Can’t an aunt drop in on her niece and her girlfriend without there being an ulterior motive?” Magica inquired, raising her eyebrows.

Webby stammered and Magica watched coolly, a small smile curving her beak. The younger girl flushed scarlet and Lena, finally, looked away from an insipid TV show about building furniture to regard her. Lena had reddened too; neither girl had discussed what their relationship was now, being afraid to label it. Plus, it sounded wrong in Magica’s mouth, like the sorceress had tainted it.

“No, she can’t,” Lena answered. “What do you want, Aunt Magica?”

“Oh, but we’re not denying the girlfriend thing,” Magica said. “Excellent.”

“What we are is none of your business,” Lena snarled, put on the defensive.

“But I’ve only come to help,” Magica said with a mock frown. “You injure me. I was only going to expedite your healing.”

“I told you before I didn’t want it and I’m telling you now the answer is ‘no’. I’d rather heal naturally.”

“You assume I’m giving you a choice. How quaint,” Magica sneered and raised her staff. Webby startled when warmth coursed through Lena and the younger girl lunged, kicking Magica in the stomach and sending the magical beam off and ricocheting into the ceiling tiles. One of them fell down and crumbled to pieces. Magica smirked.

“Ooops,” she said. “Was that healing or destruction? I always get the two mixed up.”

“Fuck off, Aunt Magica,” Lena snapped. “Leave me and Webby alone and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

“I certainly didn’t raise you to speak to me that way,” Magica sniffed. She advanced on the bed and Webby snarled, her arms spread wide to defend Lena. Magica snorted, raising her staff to push the younger girl aside, but she grabbed the staff and thrust its owner backward and into the wall. Magica’s eyes narrowed, as did Webby’s.

“Because every time I tried to curse you out, you gave me such a tongue lashing that I regretted ever speaking up,” Lena countered.

“And now you think because we’re separated that I’ll tolerate it?” she retorted and then hissed when Webby grabbed her staff, which Magica was still holding, and used it to fling Magica bodily toward the doorway. She followed it up with a kick that sent her into the hall and then shut the door behind her. She then locked it.

“Let me back in, you little brat!” Magica snarled.

“Why should I?” Lena retorted. “You always ruin whatever’s good in my life. Why should I let you in?”

“I’ll actually heal you this time,” Magica promised.

“And why should I believe you?” Lena shot back. “Swear on something important. Like Gladstone. And then I’ll consider it.”

“I’m not swearing on Gladstone,” Magica replied, outraged. She leveled her staff at the door and then blasted it open. Webby, who’d been standing in front of it, was knocked off her feet. In true Webby fashion, however, she turned the fall into a graceful roll that landed her back on Lena’s bed. Magica eyed her with distaste.

“He seemed to think I should make amends,” Magica continued, aware of how Webby tracked her across the room. The malevolence in the duckling’s eyes made Magica smirk. Webby held grudges, not that Lena blamed her. Lena hated Magica too for similar reasons.

“You think if you just waltz in here and apologize once for years of abuse, I’ll forgive you and you can go back to Gladstone and say ‘I’m done!’?” Lena said scathingly.

“When you put it that way, it sounds silly,” Magica said and shrugged, carrying herself with her usual poise. “Why bother to apologize at all?”

“Why bother is right,” Lena muttered. She wished she could reach out and pull Webby into her arms. Not being able to hold her was driving her crazy. It was almost enough to wish Magica would heal her, but not quite. As she’d said before, she did not want to be beholden to her.

“You don’t feel bad about what you put Lena through,” Webby scoffed, not moving from her defensive position. “And she still hates you. So why should you try to ‘make amends’? Why don’t you apologize to Uncle Scrooge too, while you’re at it?”

“Sure, why don’t I apologize to everyone I’ve wronged and then, while I’m at it, lie down and let everyone walk all over me?” Magica sneered.

“No one’s going to believe you,” Lena snapped. “I don’t.”

Magica rolled her eyes, raised her staff again, and sidestepped Webby trying to attack her. The tingling returned in Lena’s shoulders and arms and the constant ache, which she’d lived with because the alternative was to be high around Webby, diminished. Her arms were in slings, held apart from her body, and cautiously, she moved her arms. There was no pain.

“There. Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Magica sniffed and then vanished in a gas cloud. Webby and Lena coughed and waited for it to clear.

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Webby asked, anxious.

“No...she actually healed me,” Lena said, stunned. Experimentally, she extracted one of her arms from its sling and reached out to Webby. Webby took her hand and although there was a twinge of pain, it had gone down from an eight or a nine to a one. Lena pulled Webby onto the bed beside her and cuddled her close.

“I just wonder what she’s going to want in exchange,” Lena said darkly. “She never does anything without a price.”

“ _Are_ we girlfriends?” Webby asked, startling Lena. That was what she’d picked out of the encounter? That was what she considered the most salient problem? Sometimes, Lena had no idea how Webby’s brain worked.

“Webby, we were talking about Magica doing something for nothing and how that’s suspicious…” Lena said, nonplussed.

“But are we girlfriends?” Webby asked and shifted position so that she was sitting on her knees and regarding Lena earnestly.

“I mean, I guess…” Lena said, blushing again. “Do we have to label it?”

“Yes, we do,” Webby informed her and squealed so loudly Lena feared it’d bring a nurse asking what the hell was going on.

“My first girlfriend!” Webby cried, latching onto Lena and nuzzling her. Lena went scarlet.

“Your  _only_ girlfriend,” Lena muttered. Still, the title seemed to make Webby happy enough. Heaven knew there were precious few things that contented her lately. She wasn’t sure how Scrooge was going to deal with this, never mind the boys. Dewey and Louie were going to have a conniption.

Webby leaned forward and smacked Lena on the lips. Lena leaned forward to kiss her back, but Webby had already bounced off the bed and was jumping around the room. Lena groaned, facepalming. And she was off, like someone had shoved a rocket in her. What had Lena unleashed?

No, correction, what had Aunt Magica unleashed by saying that word? Lena just watched, awestruck, as Webby bounced about.

“If I’d known it’d make you that happy, I would’ve said something sooner,” Lena commented.

Webby dashed across the room and hugged Lena tightly. Lena was just glad that she could hug her back without more than a twinge of pain. Hyperactive ball of duck.

For five straight minutes, Webby was a duck blur about the room until she finally settled back on Lena’s bed and hugged the older girl to her. She beamed up at her and Lena offered her a small smile back.

“What happened here?” a nurse said, looking at the demolished door flying on the floor and then at the two girls. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. Magica de Spell.”

“Yep,” Lena said, grimacing. “What does she want now?”

“Against all medical advice--wait, why are your arms out of their slings? You should be keeping them separate from your body, young lady,” the nurse said. She was a heron and she looked down her beak at Lena. Lena waved her arms, winced at a slight twinge, and then pushed herself to her feet. The nurse’s eyes bulged.

“Aunt Magica healed me,” Lena said and frowned deeper. “I guess that’s fitting, since she’s the one who dislocated both shoulders in the first place.”

The nurse did a double take. She didn’t seem to know what to say for a minute. On the one hand, Lena had just admitted that her guardian was abusive. On the other hand, it was Magica de Spell, of whom many people were frightened with good reason. It seemed to take another minute for the nurse to unscramble her thoughts and reply.

“Your legal guardian…” the nurse said and her beak twisted unhappily, “your aunt has decided to sign you out. You’re free to go, although I hope you’re not returning to her custody.”

“Oh, believe me, Aunt Magica’s seen enough of me to last her lifetime,” Lena said. She hoped. She sincerely hoped Magica wanted nothing more to do with her “wayward niece”. Webby hopped off the bed too.

“She’ll be staying with me at McDuck Manor,” Webby rushed and though the nurse raised her eyebrows, she didn’t comment on that.

“I assume I should contact Scrooge McDuck, then,” the nurse said, looking bemused. “I’ll call him and he can pick you two up.”

Webby beamed at Lena once the nurse had left. “You’re coming home! You’re gonna live with us, for real this time. No Magica over your shoulder and you can finally be safe.”

“It doesn’t worry you that I killed your grandmother?” she blurted.

“It wasn’t you, it was Magica,” Webby said and her smile dimmed. “It bothers you?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, your uncle practically called me a traitor last time,” she pointed out.

“He said things in the heat of the moment he didn’t mean,” Webby said. “He wouldn’t have offered to let you stay with us if he didn’t want you there.”

Lena supposed that was true. She also supposed it meant that Scrooge must trust her more than he had before. She didn’t have it in her to argue the point, especially since Webby was still brimming with excitement.

“So…” Lena said, her small smile returning. “What do you want to do until Scrooge comes?”

Webby pounced on her and tackled her to the bed. “Aggressive snuggling!”

“You are one weird girl,” Lena opined.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Webby said with a shrug. “But that’s how you like me, isn’t it?”

This time, Lena rewarded her with a bright smile. “Yeah, it is.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Scrooge was baffled by Lena’s explanation. Yes, it made sense that Magica would heal her given that she’d inflicted the damage in the first place, but by the same token, since when did anything Magica do make sense? Lena was discomfited and he didn’t blame her. Owing Magica a favor tended to be a tricky proposition. At least the healing didn’t seem conditional; despite a twinge of pain here and there, Lena was healed well enough to depart with them. Scrooge kept an eye on her, regardless.  
  
Webby had lapsed into her uncharacteristic silence, even around Lena, and Scrooge frowned. She’d been withdrawing around the boys too. He’d found a therapist for her, one who was discreet and capable of keeping a secret, and she wouldn’t have to leave the mansion for it. He wanted to secure the mansion against magic and mundane before letting anyone out of his sight again. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but multiple intrusions from Magica did not induce relaxation and lowered guards. If he knew where Magica was hiding out, he’d have routed her out; kidnapping and then endangering two children was illegal, regardless of how she’d like to spin it.  
  
Then there was the attempted rape charge, which the Bloodhound Gang had, as well as the rape one. Scrooge put those out of his mind for the time being. He needed to focus on Webby’s well-being and not the rage that the Bloodhound Gang induced. After everything that had happened, Mrs. Beakley hadn’t had a formal funeral. Yes, she’d been buried, but they’d not had the ceremony. Perhaps the normalcy would help Webby.  
  
“You all right?” he inquired gently. He’d raised the privacy shield between himself and Launchpad and bit back a curse when Launchpad stopped suddenly, nearly rear-ending an unmarked police car. Scrooge supposed he ought to give him points for not hitting it, though that seemed too charitable.  
  
“We’re okay,” Lena answered. Webby didn’t say a thing. She stared out the window and watched the cars drive past. If he was really concerned about safety, perhaps he ought to replace Launchpad. Then again, he was the cheapest driver money could buy and Dewey seemed rather attached to him.  
  
He also knew that if he sent Launchpad out for a driving safety course, he’d probably set the place on fire. It didn’t take much for Scrooge to envision people screaming, running for cover, and Launchpad at a loss to explain it all. He suppressed a groan. No, a driving safety course was out of the question.  
  
“Webbigail?” he queried. “You haven’t said anything since I picked you two up.”  
  
“What? Oh,” she said, sounding distracted. “Hi, Uncle Scrooge.”  
  
Had she been that mired in her thoughts? He didn’t like that either. There were entirely too many things rattling around in there for his comfort. His hand tightened on the cane.  
  
“You’re spacing out,” Lena commented.  
  
“I’m just tired,” Webby lied.  
  
“You bounced around like a maniac in my hospital room about two hours ago,” Lena reminded her. “You’re usually hyperactive when you get excited. Now you’re all quiet.”  
  
“I was just thinking,” she replied, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, she seemed to lapse back into rumination, her head slumping on her shoulders and her expression closeted. Scrooge and Lena exchanged concerned glances.  
  
“About?” Lena pressed.  
  
“Stuff,” Webby responded vaguely.  
  
At that moment, the limo came to a screeching halt and Scrooge smelled burnt asphalt. What the hell? He lowered the privacy barrier between them.  
  
“What in the blazes was that?” he demanded.  
  
“Sorry, Mister McDee. Almost hit a parked ambulance. I swear, it came out of nowhere.”  
  
“A parked ambulance. Came out of nowhere,” Scrooge repeated.  
  
“It wasn’t there a second ago,” Launchpad protested.  
  
“It was parked! Of course it was there a second ago!” he bellowed.  
  
“Guys? You’re impeding traffic,” Lena said. Behind them, a chorus of horns sounded and Scrooge grumbled.  
  
“Never mind that,” Scrooge snapped. “Just get going!”  
  
He waved his cane threateningly and Launchpad started up as though he’d never stopped. Scrooge despaired, shaking his head. The horns ceased and Scrooge raised the privacy barrier again. He feared, with Launchpad’s intercession, that he’d never recapture Webby’s attention. Considering how she’d hero-worshipped him up until a month ago, that was especially troubling.  
  
“Webbigail?” Scrooge prompted. “What were you thinking about?”  
  
“Webby?” Lena asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Webby.”  
  
Webby didn’t respond.  
  
“I could tell you about one of my expeditions,” he offered. Webby shrugged, not taking her gaze off the window. She appeared to be barely listening. Lena brushed her hand against hers and then stopped, looking at Scrooge guiltily.  
  
“We’re, uh…” Lena faltered, blushing.  
  
“It’s all right, lass, I’m not going to ask and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Scrooge said.  
  
Lena weighed this and decided against telling him. She instead glanced back at Webby and her frown deepened.  
  
“Webs,” Lena said and nudged her. “Earth to Webbigail Vanderquack.”  
  
“Mmm?” Webby said, not opening her mouth or looking their way.  
  
“I don’t know that your head is a good place to be right now, lass,” Scrooge said. “Especially without talking to one of us first.”  
  
Webby shrugged again and he swallowed frustration. Yelling at her wouldn’t solve anything. Lena was studying Webby and her beak pursed.  
  
Lena opened her beak and then shut it again. She wanted to ask something, Scrooge could tell, but didn’t want to do so in his proximity.  
  
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ve gone mysteriously deaf for the next five minutes and won’t be able to hear a word you say.”  
  
“Okay…” she said and turned to Webby. Lena frowned deeper and then shook her head. It seemed whatever she’d considered saying had evaporated. Ah, well. Scrooge racked his brains for another way to engage Webby.  
  
“You know, we haven’t made it official yet,” Lena said, regaining her train of thought.  
  
“Hmm…” Webby said, disappointing both of them, and then glanced over at them. Whatever had held her interest was gone, at least for the moment. “Did you know Louie kissed me?”  
  
“For fu--” Lena started and caught herself. Scrooge raised his eyebrows. “When were you going to tell me about this?”  
  
“I thought you went deaf for the next five minutes,” Webby said to Scrooge.  
  
“I didn’t think you were paying attention!” he said, defensive. “How was I supposed to know you were listening to every word?”  
  
“I didn’t hear all of it,” she admitted. “Other than the last thing you said, I kinda drifted in and out of the conversation.”  
  
“Like I said, lass, I don’t think your head is the best place to be right now,” Scrooge cautioned.  
  
“Heh, I guess not,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about Louie and then about the Bloodhound Gang and Magica and my granny and it all kinda mixed into one.”  
  
That seemed like as good an introduction for this as any. “I found you a therapist, Webby.”  
  
“I don’t need a therapist,” Webby said automatically.  
  
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but you do. You went through a lot of traumatizing things in one month and you need to talk to someone about it,” he replied. “And heaven knows you haven’t been talking to any of the boys or me.”  
  
“What am I supposed to tell them?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest. “They have their mom back and you’re busy with Della too and I’m…”  
  
She trailed off.  
  
“Just kinda there?” Lena supplied and Webby nodded. Lena squeezed her hand.  
  
“But you’re not,” he protested. “We’re all there and we all care about you.”  
  
“They just got their mom back,” Webby said, shaking her head. “They can worry about me later. And you just got your niece back. I’m not family.”  
  
“You’re gonna make me regret that outburst for the rest of my life, aren’t you?” Scrooge said and she shrugged, returning to glance out the window. He grimaced. Damn, he’d walked right into that one. Unfortunately, it looked like Webby had returned to shutting him out. The car swerved around a lamppost (how the devil had Launchpad come that close?) and drove down the street leading to McDuck Manor. The time for conversation was almost over.  
  
“We’re not single-minded individuals, lass,” Scrooge argued. “We can concentrate on two things at once.”  
  
A single shoulder shrug was his only response.  
  
“Tell me you get more out of her than this,” he pleaded with Lena.  
  
“Usually,” Lena answered. “But sometimes, she drifts off into her own world. You’re gonna have to give her some space.”  
  
“If I give her any more space, she’ll wind up on the moon,” he complained and then cringed. “Poor choice of words.”  
  
They came within inches of hitting the house and Scrooge groaned. He supposed, for Launchpad, that meant this was a successful drive. Or maybe not, because the lad did like his crashes. And the costly repairs to Scrooge’s transportation. He sometimes wondered if hiring a more competent driver and a pilot would’ve been better. Duckworth had never crashed. Then again, as a ghost, he had a hard time driving the limo.  
  
They climbed out of the limo and Scrooge contemplated their predicament. He had one wayward niece who seemed remarkably resilient, yet wouldn’t answer many questions about her time stranded and another who barely answered anything at all. The boys, thankfully, seemed normal, although Louie kissing Webby had surprised him. If any of the boys had kissed her, he would’ve expected Dewey.  
  
Lena and Webby headed for Webby’s room and he frowned deeper. Lena seemed the key to unlocking Webby, but what she was holding inside, even from Lena, was problematic. You couldn’t hold that stuff in. While he couldn’t relate to the violence she’d endured, he could sympathize with her killing someone. In his case, they’d fallen off a cliff in front of him and he’d been fighting them besides, so it wasn’t really his fault (the first death attributed to Scrooge, at any rate, and not the last by far). But the situation was similar.  
  
Frustrated, he headed for his study. Perhaps losing himself in business would be the appropriate cure for this. Or, at least, a stay for the inevitable reckoning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby's mother (who isn't dead in this universe) makes an appearance. Webby has a nightmare, which leads her to discover that her mother has been trying to contact her grandmother and which brings Wren Beakley back into Webby's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't seen the new ep yet, so no spoilers. :P 
> 
> I retconned a bit of this--you won't see the retconned bits here, but it meant I had to figure out where I was with Synthesis this morning. I thought I was done with this fic, but now I'm not so sure. I started working on it again a couple days ago for the first time in a month.

It was quite late by the time Webby attempted to sleep. She had forgotten to ask Scrooge for the cordial; part of her was afraid she’d seem dependent on it and the other didn’t want to bother him. They all looked so happy now that Della had returned. She didn’t want to intrude on that. Plus, she was positive she’d have nightmares and the only way to fend them off was to stave off sleep for as long as possible.  
  
Lena had passed out already and Webby had left her alone, snoring lightly like the beautiful angel she was. She found the oddest things about Lena endearing. That reminded her of Louie because he acted like he had a crush on her and you only noticed those things if you were crushing on someone. Or so she assumed. Having grown as she had, it was hard to tell.  
  
When she finally succumbed to fatigue, she found herself back in the manor and sitting at the kitchen table with her grandmother. Mrs. Beakley had no obvious wounds and she was eating pancakes, which she normally made for everyone. Today, however, it was just the two of them. Webby poked at her breakfast, but she wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t had much of an appetite awake either.  
  
“What’s the matter, dear?” her granny asked and Webby’s throat tightened.  
  
Everything was the matter.  _“Nowhere’s home and I’m all wrong.”_  
  
“If I let something happen to me…” she began. Tension wracked her body and she simultaneously wanted to wake and wanted to remain asleep. She had missed her grandmother so much that seeing her, even in dreams, was exquisite torture. If she stayed here, she could converse with her. But once she awoke, the truth would hit her that much harder. Her granny couldn’t stay.  
  
Sobs hit and she pushed away the pancakes to put her head down on the table. Mrs. Beakley hurriedly moved around to hug her.  
  
“Webby...Webby...what happened?” she murmured, stroking her hair.  
  
Unable to speak, she choked on her sobs. It felt good and right to be in her grandmother’s arms and it hurt all the more knowing she couldn’t keep her. It was too cruel to dream of her but she couldn’t wake. Didn’t want to wake. She couldn’t bear to be here but she couldn’t bear to leave.  
  
“You died,” Webby finally managed, gazing up at her with tear filled eyes. “Don’t you remember? Magica killed you in Lena’s body.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” she said, rubbing her back and sitting beside her. “I’m right here.”  
  
“No, you’re not!” Webby argued, wiping at her eyes. “Magica killed you. I was there. I saw it. They all saw it. You’re not here. You’re dead. You’re...you’re dead…”  
  
She cried harder, tasting the tears in her mouth. “This isn’t real…”  
  
“I didn’t die,” her grandmother argued. “Sssh. How could I have died if I’m sitting beside you? You had a nightmare, that’s all.”  
  
Webby shook her head. Her throat was too tight for speech. She hadn’t had a nightmare. This was the nightmare, her waking world. But so cruel her mind was to offer solace and then wake to find it gone.  
  
When she was capable of speech again, she said, “No...you died...I ran away...I was attacked...twice...and I killed them. I killed the ringleader…”  
  
“You didn’t kill anyone,” her grandmother soothed. “You weren’t attacked. You’re fine. We’re just here, eating our breakfast.”  
  
“Then where are the others?” she asked, swallowing past a lump in her throat. “Where are the boys? Where’s Uncle Scrooge?”  
  
“What boys? And you should know better than to call Mr. McDuck that,” she reprimanded. “Mr. McDuck is in his office, as he always is. You haven’t been bothering him, have you? I told you not to.”  
  
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” she said. “Where are they? Donald’s nephews. Della’s sons. They live in McDuck Manor with us.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley frowned, holding her at arm’s length. “Have you been having strange dreams? Because Mr. McDuck’s family never visits. You know that. It’s just the three of us inside this manor. Well, three of us plus one ghost.”  
  
“What about Lena?” she asked.  
  
“Who’s Lena?”  
  
“What do you mean…” Webby trailed off, alarmed. “Granny, none of that is true. The boys moved in months ago. Their uncle Donald is living in his houseboat in Uncle Scrooge’s swimming pool. Lena’s my best friend and Magica de Spell’s niece. Don’t you remember?”  
  
“Don’t you remember?” Mrs. Beakley countered. “None of that is true. Webby, I know you’re lonely and I’m sorry for that, but this is the best for everyone involved. No one will be able to touch you while you’re living in the mansion.”  
  
Webby sank, all the fight going out of her. Her lower beak quivered and she fought further tears. She couldn’t bring herself to look into her grandmother’s eyes.  
  
“If I keep you, I lose everyone else…” Webby murmured. She hugged herself. “How is that fair?”  
  
She frowned. “I can’t...I can’t lose them...but I can’t lose you…”  
  
“You’re not going to lose me, child. I’m not going anywhere,” she said and stroked her hair. It stopped comforting her, however. Instead, she pulled away and hugged herself tighter. The house felt empty without the boys and Lena. It was emptier still with Scrooge ignoring them and acting like they didn’t live there. It was a big place for a small child and oh so very vacant.  
  
“I think I’d like to wake up now,” Webby sniffled. Her vision blurred with tears. “I don’t think I like this dream very much.”  
  
Shuddering, she pushed herself awake and then, sitting up in bed, hugged her knees. In the dark, with the door shut, she buried her face in her knees and sobbed. She could still feel her grandmother’s arms around her, still smell her familiar scent. The boys were gone in that world and she’d have been lonely but had a family. But now she had three siblings...or however they related to her.  
  
It had felt so real. It wasn’t fair. How could her mind do that to her?  
  
And did she want to leave her room to find out if the dream continued? Had she really woken up at all? Or was this misery part of it? Maybe there was no escape. Maybe she’d just keep waking and waking into further dreams until she went insane. She rocked back and forth, tears streaking her cheeks.  
  
Pushing herself to her feet, she willed herself to head into the hallway. All was quiet, which proved nothing. Tiptoeing along the hall to avoid waking someone, she headed for her grandmother’s room. The door was unlocked and she listened, waiting to hear her grandmother’s gentle sleep breathing. It was silent, quiet as a tomb.  
  
“Granny?” she ventured.  
  
No one answered. She walked to the bed to find it empty; it’d been made but remained untouched for the past six weeks. Webby’s hand, on one of the pillars of the four poster bed, trembled. Her grandmother wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here for a long time. Webby was alone, this time trapped in actual reality.  
  
She flicked the switch only to see the truth in stark colors. She hadn’t come in here since before her grandmother had died. Webby doubted she’d come in any time soon after this.  
  
Something caught her eye, a note pinned to the same kind of board that Webby had in her room. She moved stiffly, sobs slipping through, and hugged herself. The note pinned to the bulletin board had a combination on it, specifically the combination to the lock at the chest at the foot of her bed. Her grandmother wouldn’t have left the combination out for no reason. She must’ve had a sixth sense that something might happen with Magica.  
  
Misery bowled her over and she sank to the carpet. She couldn’t stop crying and she could barely breathe for the sobs. She needed the boys or Lena. Someone had to help her face this. She wasn’t strong enough to deal with it alone.  
  
After an indeterminate time in which she lay there, crying her heart out and giving herself a headache, she noticed two things. One, that somewhere in the room, her grandmother’s cell phone was buzzing. Who would possibly be calling her? And two, it was really uncomfortable to kneel on the floor with your face close to the rug. She wobbled when she yanked on the bed to help herself up and nearly crashed into the floor again.  
  
Feeling like a newly hatched duck learning to walk, she teetered her way to the cell phone. The caller ID told her nothing--she didn’t recognize the number or the name. Her grandmother’s cell phone was plugged in, as it had been presumably for the last six weeks. She wasn’t sure what happened when you left phones plugged in, but she didn’t think it was anything good. Then again, her cell phone was so old, perhaps it was impervious to that.  
  
“Hello?” she croaked and winced. Even her voice sounded like she’d been crying.  
  
“I thought...but...then...are you...Webbigail?” the person on the other end asked and sounded uncertain herself.  
  
“Who are you?” Webby asked, her voice dull. “Betina Beakley’s dead.”  
  
The words struck her again like a blow to the chest, but she was too drained to cry. The phone screen said the time was five o’clock, which seemed about right. She hadn’t fallen asleep until about three anyway.  
  
“You’re her granddaughter, aren’t you? Webbigail Vanderquack.”  
  
“How do you know my name?” Webby asked. “Who  _are_  you?”  
  
“You didn’t look at the caller ID before you answered, did you?” the woman replied.  
  
“No…” Webby said and held the phone up to inspect it closer. “Wren...Beakley?”  
  
“I gave you my maiden name and took my mother’s so that no one would link the two of us,” the woman said. “I’ve been trying to reach my mother for weeks. I shouldn’t have left you for so long, but...I was afraid. When I heard something happened to my mother, I tried calling her. And calling her.”  
  
Webby slid bonelessly to the floor. This was too much to take in. She let the phone flop out of her hand and stared at the ceiling.  
  
First Della and now this? What was going on here? If she had any more things dumped on her, she’d scream.  
  
“Webbigail?” the woman said, her voice tinny. The phone had landed beside her.  
  
She had to still be asleep. That was the only solution. Yet when she pinched herself, it hurt. It was nothing compared to the soul-crushing realization that her grandmother wasn’t coming back, but it was still something. She had no inclination to retrieve the phone, though. It would remain on the carpet as far as she was concerned.  
  
“You’re still at McDuck Manor, aren’t you?”  
  
It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell this woman anything more than she already knew. Webby shut the phone (it was a fold-up phone), which hung up the call. She was mildly impressed her grandmother had gotten a charging cord long enough to reach the floor from the table on which the phone had previously sat.  
  
For a few minutes, she sat there, stunned. This woman claimed to be her mother. This woman really could be her mother.  
  
She needed to talk to someone. Everyone would be asleep, so she’d have to wake them. The urgency was too much for her to care at that point. Wobbling to her feet again, she lurched across the room, not realizing she had the phone back in her hand until she dragged the charging cord out of the wall outlet and along with her. The phone was vibrating again.  
  
The boys’ room was the closest and she opened the door without knocking first. It was rude, as was waking them up, but they’d forgive her. She glanced at the bunks. She would’ve preferred sleeping with all three of them around her, but obviously, that wasn’t possible. One of them would have to be woken up, but which one?  
  
Her feet brought her to Dewey’s bunk and she jerked her head at a soft “hey!” in the darkness.  
  
“What are you doing up?” Dewey whispered.  
  
“Did I wake you up?” she whispered back.  
  
“The light from the hallway woke me up,” he responded. “Just get up here.”  
  
She climbed the ladder and curled up next to him. The mattress was a twin, so it fit both of them without too much difficulty. If they’d been older and bigger, that would’ve been a different story.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he murmured.  
  
She didn’t know where to begin. She hugged him and, surprised, he hugged her back. Clenching her eyes shut, she willed back the tears that wouldn’t come out anyway. She’d cried herself out.  
  
“Webby?”  
  
“Webby?” Louie repeated. “What’s she doing here?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Dewey whispered back.  
  
“We’re all up, you might as well stop whispering,” Huey said.  
  
“Webs?” Louie prompted.  
  
“How come you came to us instead of Lena?” Dewey asked.  
  
“You were closer,” she mumbled. “And...I dunno.”  
  
“Did you have a nightmare?” Louie asked. “‘Cuz I know you’ve been having a lot of those lately.”  
  
“Yes, but…” she didn’t know how to proceed. She held the phone out to Dewey mutely and he took it.  
  
“Man, this is old,” he said. Louie scoffed at the phone too.  
  
“It looks like it was last updated in 2005,” Louie commented. “It’s older than we are.”  
  
“Wow, that’s a lot of missed calls,” Dewey remarked. “From...Wren Beakley? Beakley? I thought your grandmother was your only relative.”  
  
“So did I,” Webby said. “And then this happened.”  
  
“What were you doing in your grandmother’s room?” Huey asked. There was no judgment, just curiosity.  
  
“I had a nightmare, like Louie said, and I wanted to check on her. And then, you know…” she gasped back a dry sob.  
  
Dewey stroked her hair. “Sssh.”  
  
“I dreamt you guys went missing and Granny was here, but no one else was…” she said. She was still whispering, though she didn’t know why. As Huey had noted, everyone was up now.  
  
“We’re not leaving,” Huey said. He reached his hand up toward her and she squeezed it.  
  
“All right, I’m coming up there,” Louie said and ascended the ladder to join Dewey and Webby. It was a little tight with three people and Dewey seemed in danger of falling off, but no one complained.  
  
“We’re not going anywhere. And if that is your relative, then why is she calling now? What’s she up to?” Louie asked. He was wearing his hoodie to sleep, which was weird.  
  
“She said she was afraid and that’s why she stayed away,” Webby said. Dewey rolled over and she was sandwiched between the two boys.  
  
“Pfft,” Louie scoffed. “That doesn’t explain anything.”  
  
“No, it doesn’t,” Huey mused. “That’s suspicious in and of itself.”  
  
“So, what do we do?” Dewey asked.  
  
“First thing is we should try to get some sleep. We can tell Uncle Scrooge about it in the morning and see what he thinks,” Huey said. “And then we’ll come up with a plan for how to deal with it.”  
  
“And I need to tell Lena, too,” Webby murmured.  
  
“We’ll all come up with a game plan,” Huey amended.  
  
“I don’t know if I can sleep,” she pointed out. She was afraid of having another nightmare. The boys hugged her.  
  
“We’ll be here if you have another nightmare,” Dewey soothed.  
  
“Just try not to kick us in your sleep. Or hit us,” Louie said. “I bruise easily.”  
  
Webby’s beak quirked into a smile. “I’ll try.”  
  
“Do or do not, there is no try,” Huey quoted.  
  
“Man, you are such a nerd,” Louie said, throwing a pillow at him.  
  
“Enough! Sleep!” Huey said. He flung the pillow back toward the top bunk and it smacked Louie in the face. “Night, _Llewellyn.”_  
  
“I hate you so much,” Louie grumbled.  
  
“This is...normal brother stuff, right?” she asked, uncertain.  
  
“It’s normal,” Dewey assured her. “Just be careful they don’t fight to the death in front of you. That might kill your appetite later.”  
  
“Fight to the death?” she asked, both alarmed and intrigued.  
  
“He’s kidding,” Huey said.  
  
“Mostly,” Louie added.  
  
“Night!” the three boys said in unison and she closed her eyes. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, but it was so warm in between Dewey and Louie. And she hadn’t slept very well before…  
  
Within minutes, she had passed out between the two with both of them holding her.  
  
\----  
  
“You’re saying that Wren called you?” Scrooge asked the next morning over breakfast. “Wren?”  
  
“So? Who is she?” Louie asked around a mouthful of corn flakes. No one was going to reprimand him about talking with his mouth full. That would’ve been Mrs. Beakley’s job.  
  
“She’s Webby’s mother,” he said. Webby, who had been fiddling with the phone again, dropped it on the table. She’d barely touched her waffles; her appetite had fled again. True, she’d gotten a few hours sleep between the boys, but everything tasted like ash again. How could she enjoy anything?  
  
“Seriously?” Louie exclaimed.  
  
Della cast a curious glance at Webby. “I knew your mother, but only briefly.”  
  
“Strange timing,” Scrooge remarked.  
  
“She was looking for Granny,” Webby said dully. She pushed the waffle plate away. “Can I be excused?”  
  
“In a minute,” he said and cast her a sharp gaze. Webby didn’t meet his eyes.  
  
“You’re not going to eat?” Huey asked, concerned. “I prepared those according to an old Junior Woodchuck Guidebook recipe.”  
  
“No wonder they taste like sawdust,” Louie quipped and Huey kicked him under the table. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Jeez. You take things so seriously.”  
  
“I’m not hungry,” Webby mumbled.  
  
“You need to eat something, lass,” Scrooge reprimanded her and she took a forkful, ate it, and then pushed the plate away again. She spied the adults exchanging glances over her head. Knowing she was being rude but feeling like remaining at the table was a trial she couldn’t endure any longer, she shoved her chair back and walked away. Lena jumped up too, as did Dewey. Louie was still eating; it’d take more than that to chase him away from food.  
  
“I didn’t excuse you, Webbigail,” Scrooge reminded her.  
  
She lifted her head with an effort and stared at him. “I’m not hungry, like I said. And I don’t know what there is to talk about. If this woman is my mom, then she didn’t care enough to show up until just now. And if she isn’t, then she won’t show up anyway.”  
  
She was being borderline insolent and she knew it. Once she was finished, she lowered her head again. Her grandmother would’ve been ashamed that she’d been mouthing off. Dewey and Lena stepped closer to her and her chest was tight. Memories from last night flooded in.  
  
“It was a rough night,” Dewey explained. “She was sleeping with us for a while.”  
  
“Do you have your grandmother’s phone?” Scrooge asked and Webby plucked it up from the table. She handed it, mutely, to Scrooge.  
  
It vibrated again, startling the children and prompting the adults to exchange looks again. What was that supposed to mean? Were they having some sort of secret cabal over there?  
  
Scrooge answered and, despite herself, Webby was interested. He hit the speaker button and Webby stilled, her beak going dry.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge?” Wren asked.  
  
“We can discuss your claim to that moniker later,” he said. “Are you actually interested in your daughter?”  
  
Wren paused and Webby feared the worst.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Wren said and Webby waited for the rest, for her to hang up and never bother them again. She both wanted and dreaded it. She reached for Lena’s hand and Lena squeezed it. Dewey took her other hand.  
  
“I shouldn’t have left her. I panicked,” Wren continued. “And when I heard that Magica had returned to Duckburg, I feared the worst, especially when Mother didn’t respond.”  
  
The children exchanged glances and Scrooge sniffed. He wasn’t buying it, not that Webby blamed him. She wasn’t sure how much she believed either. At least Lena’s hand was warm and comforting in hers. The older girl had assumed a defensive stance near her as if Wren might materialize beyond the phone and threaten her girlfriend.  
  
“What if I return on a conditional basis?” Wren suggested. “I can stay in a hotel and come to see Webbigail with someone supervising.”  
  
“And to what am I supposed to attribute this sudden change of heart?” Scrooge asked.  
  
“You’re going to have a funeral, right? I want to be there,” Wren blurted.  
  
“I haven’t said anything about a funeral,” he said and depressed the speaker button. He waved his arm to gesture for the kids to leave and they did, huffing. Webby was so sick of being left out of the loop. On the plus side, she didn’t have to keep poking at unappetizing food. Then again, this had finally gotten interesting, enough to pique what little interest she had in life.  
  
“Aye, there will be,” she heard him say as they left the room.  
  
“Do you trust her?” Huey asked once the door was closed behind them.  
  
“I wouldn’t,” Lena commented. “Her timing is too coincidental.”  
  
“Maybe she really does want to help,” Webby protested, her voice weak.  
  
“Maybe,” Lena said. “But I’m not buying it.”  
  
“So, what do we do?” Dewey asked. “Block her from entering the manor?”  
  
“I don’t think we can do that,” Huey replied. “But...we’ll keep a close eye on her.”  
  
Webby’s lips quirked. She couldn’t bring herself to smile, but she was grateful for them. They were being overprotective, perhaps, but they only had her best interests at heart. She hugged Dewey and Lena and reached out for Huey and Louie, the latter of whom was grumping about missing the rest of his breakfast. She rolled her eyes at him.  
  
“You wanna go to Funso’s?” Dewey asked.  
  
“What’s a Funso?” Lena asked, wrinkling her beak.  
  
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dewey said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Just as long as you don’t set anything on fire or make kids cry or hit a Beagle Boy in disguise and make him trip over an important arcade game wire.”  
  
“You set something on  _fire_ , pink?” Lena asked, smirking. “This sounds like a story I should hear.”  
  
“I panicked and hit it with my grappling hook,” Webby protested. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood to leave the manor, much less do something fun. It felt like cheating on her grandmother’s memory, to continue being a kid when all of these horrible things had happened. She wanted to retreat to her room with her dolly and lock the door behind her. Yet she doubted that the others would let her.  
  
“You really are something else,” Lena said, a hint of pride in her voice. She grinned at her.  
  
“I guess we can go to Funso’s…” she allowed and the boys whooped. They did, after all, have all of those free tokens. She felt almost like they ought to tell someone they were going, but she could hear raised voices coming from behind the door. Scrooge was growing agitated, presumably with Wren, and she didn’t want any part of that.  
  
“That’s the spirit,” Louie said. “Well, not quite the spirit, but c’mon, we can pretend we’re beating the Beagle Boys again and that’ll cheer you up.”  
  
No, probably not, because she was thinking of sinking the knife into the Bloodhound Gang leader’s chest, but she feigned a smile for Louie’s benefit. He grimaced.  
  
“Yeah, that’s not fooling anyone,” he informed her.  
  
“Sorry,” she mumbled.  
  
“We’ll make you get excited,” Louie said and then paused. “Okay, no, because that sounds like a threat. But you’ll see.”  
  
“You’re great at this,” Lena said, snickering. “And you think I’m bad.”  
  
Louie reddened and Huey cleared his throat to prevent an argument.  
  
“Where else would you like to go? A bookstore?” he asked and the other boys groused. Lena, surprisingly, said nothing. Perhaps she was a book nerd too, albeit a closeted one because she never mentioned reading.  
  
Webby brightened slightly. “A bookstore would be good. I’ve never been to one. Granny always brought me books from outside. I’ve always wanted to go, though.”  
  
“And here I was, hoping I could keep up my streak of never being in a bookstore,” Louie grumbled and Huey elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
“We’ll go to Funso and then to the bookstore,” Huey promised and Webby rewarded him with a weak smile, still more substantial and honest than what she’d delivered earlier.  
  
“If you’re going to a bookstore, I’m skipping out after Funso,” Louie warned.  
  
“Be our guest,” Huey scoffed, rolling his eyes. “In case the books attack you. We’ll make it a date.”  
  
Lena tensed and Louie glowered. Webby glanced at each of the triplets in turn. Dewey hadn’t said anything in objection to the bookstore, but he hadn’t liked his brother’s wording either. Huey had to know that they had crushes on her. Ugh. Why was everything so complicated? Why couldn’t they just all be family and Lena her girlfriend?  
  
“Then I’m going,” Louie proclaimed. “But I won’t enjoy it.”  
  
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Huey said with a smirk.  
  
“Good,” Louie huffed.  
  
“Good,” Huey said.  
  
“Uh…” Webby was at a loss.  
  
“It’s a boy thing,” Lena said and then paused. “I think. C’mon, let’s go before they break their tiny brains.”  
  
“They’re not tiny!” the boys said in unison and Lena snickered.  
  
“Could’ve fooled me,” she said sweetly, tugging Webby along. She didn’t even know the way to Funso’s, especially if she’d never heard of it. She was probably just trying to get Webby out of their reach and they huffed, surging to the front of the line.  
  
“We probably should tell your mom, at least,” Webby said to the triplets. “Or your uncle Donald.”  
  
“We’ll tell Uncle Donald,” Dewey said. “He’ll be fine with it. And it is not tiny.”  
  
“Methinks the duck doth protest too much,” Lena said, smirking still. They gaped at her and she scoffed. “I was the only one who was forced to sit through boarding school? Jeez. Aren’t you guys lucky.”  
  
“I never went to school at all,” Webby commented. “Granny didn’t want to let me out of the manor, so the tutors came to me instead of the other way around.”  
  
“No wonder you’ve never been to a bookstore,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying that you need to get out more to the worst parts of Duckburg, because you already have, but you need to see the better stuff. You can’t see anything if you’re locked up in this stuffy house all the time.”  
  
Webby hesitated. What if something else happened? Then again, the last time she’d gone out with the boys and Lena, everything had been all right. Could she trust that she’d be all right in broad daylight with everyone around her? She wasn’t sure; she didn’t trust herself anymore.  
  
“Relax,” Dewey told her. “The worst thing that’ll happen is that we’ll end up having to pay for fruit punch. Right, Louie?”  
  
Louie rolled his eyes. “That was Webby’s fault. I never pay for it normally.”  
  
“Webby’s fault or yours for gaming the system?” Huey asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“The system was set out to be gamed,” Louie retorted.  
  
“Wanna ditch these losers?” Lena murmured.  
  
“I think I’ll be okay,” Webby said. She wasn’t sure she believed it, but she didn’t know if she had an alternative. It seemed like the boys were determined to make her have fun, regardless.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby has a PTSD flashback and Wren appears at the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Wren's *alive* in one of my fics? Amazing!

_Lately, I've been, I've been thinking  
I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier_

Webby watched the boys play and felt like she was standing outside of herself. Scrooge had insisted she had a therapist appointment tomorrow, so she guessed she did. In the past, she might've been open enough to tell the therapist everything, if only because she was so eager to share. And overshare. Right now, Webby could feel Lena beside her and still didn't want to speak.

"We could always blow this place," Lena suggested and then nudged her playfully. "Just not literally, okay?"

Her hands shook on the pinball machine. The flippers reminded her of knives, which reminded her of stabbing and guns. She stepped back, her head spinning. Blood, hot and thick, coated her and the metallic taste filled her beak. Gagging, she dashed past the boys and into the bathroom to vomit.

Lena rushed after her and held her hair back. Tears streaked Webby's cheeks and she collapsed onto her knees.

"I know the food sucks…" Lena teased and Webby shook her head.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "I can't pretend to be a normal kid."

"You never were a normal kid," Lena said, but it was gentle, not an insult. She helped her to her feet and Webby clung to her. Lena rubbed her back and escorted her back toward the drinks. Louie, who'd been gaming the system again, glanced at the girls with concern. He finished his "water" and headed over to them.

"Webby?" he asked.

"I don't think 'fun is in the zone' for me," Webby said weakly. Lena took a napkin and cleaned up her face. She gestured for Louie to give Webby something to wash her mouth out. Of course, he left his drink alone, but he did bring back water for her to rinse out her mouth.

"What happened?" he demanded, looking at Lena as though she'd caused it. Lena rolled her eyes.

Webby shook her head. She didn't know how to answer. Her throat was tight and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Memories crowded in, feeling more real than her surroundings. She could barely feel Lena's arms about her or Louie taking her hand.

"The Bloodhound Gang is all locked up, right?" Webby asked, barely pushing the words out.

"They're all locked up, yeah," Louie asked, looking baffled. "Why?"

"I keep...feeling...the knife...and the guns on my temple…" Webby said and breathed shallowly. She could feel the telltale signs of hyperventilation starting; she'd done so when she'd murdered their leader. She was shaking, too, and Louie gave her a paper bag to breathe into. Lena stroked her hair and it seemed she was having a conversation with Louie, but Webby lost track of it.

And the hands inching up her skirt...Webby bit back a scream. This was the wrong place to have this happen. Why was it now? Why? She was  _safe_. She was with the boys and Lena. Nothing was going to happen to her here. The worst thing that could happen would be if the Beagle Boys were stupid enough to enter again and she could handle them. Why was she freaking out over nothing?

Louie's grip on her hand was firm and she squeezed back. She felt the other two approach and Dewey took her other hand. Huey was talking about JWG instructions on how to deal with PTSD. In the back of her mind, she scoffed. That JWG couldn't possibly have everything. It hadn't had the Terra-firmians until he'd added them.

But their presence was soothing. Surrounded by her friends and family, the ball in her chest loosened slightly. They were grounding her.

"You're here, not there," Louie said. "Uncle Donald sometimes has flashbacks too."

Webby tasted tears and Lena wiped them away. Still shaking, she wished she had another hand to hold Huey's and Lena's hands. She interlaced her fingers with Dewey's and Louie's. Around her, she heard children laughing and screaming. She wished she could be like that again. Why couldn't she be? What was wrong with her?

Granny would know. Webby lowered her gaze.

"Wanna go to the bookstore?" Huey asked.

"Ugh...why…" Louie complained.

"I like books," Huey said. "They're like rules. They're comforting and they don't change."

Webby's breathing was coming easier and Louie took away the paper bag. She glanced up at Huey; the love pouring out of the four of them was enough to bowl her over. For so many years, she'd wanted a family. And she had one. And they cared about and loved her enough to stop whatever they'd been doing, whatever they'd been enjoying, to take care of her.

"I love you, all of you," she whispered.

"Are you feeling any better?" Huey asked.

Webby nodded. She felt weak like she'd been running one of her grandmother's obstacle courses for hours, but she was better. The tension left her body and she eased out of the chair. The manager was watching them, although she knew he wouldn't dare say anything to them. The place was just lucky Scrooge McDuck hadn't decided to sue them. Heh. Her heart pounded.

"I'm up for the bookstore," she decided. Louie groaned again and she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

"I guess I can ruin my record," he said, making a big show of complaining, but he was watching her anyway. He smiled at her and she offered him a weak smile back.

"Books aren't going to attack you, you know," Huey huffed as they headed out. "You could learn a few things from them."

"Or I could get it for free off the internet," Louie said.

"You mean stealing them?" Huey asked, aghast.

"Hey, man, they're up there to be read," Louie said, shrugging, unperturbed by his casual law-breaking. "It's not my fault that they're on the grey side of the law."

"It's not grey! It's black and white! You're stealing!" Huey hissed.

"Stealing isn't a crime unless you get caught," Lena informed Huey and he spun around, shooting her a betrayed look. She smirked. Webby's smile broadened.

"See?" Louie said. "She agrees with me."

"Living like a criminal is…" Huey sputtered, too indignant to finish his sentence. Not to worry-Lena and Louie were all too happy to complete it.

"The only way to live when you have a magical shadow attached to you?" Lena suggested.

"Not  _that_  illegal if you know your way around the firewalls?" Louie suggested.

"I can't believe I'm related to you!" Huey huffed, but Webby knew he didn't mean it. Huey loved being a triplet and loved his brothers, no matter how exasperating they were proving to be. Louie had released Webby's hand, but Dewey was still holding her right hand. Dewey smiled weakly at her.

"Are you okay?" Dewey asked in an undertone.

"No, not really," she admitted. "I threw up what little I ate for breakfast."

"We should get more to eat, then," Louie declared, which Webby suspected was more of a way to stop his argument with Huey than because he was hungry. She shook her head.

"I'm not hungry," she said. For one thing, she knew she never wanted medium rare steak again or anything bloody. She shuddered and Lena grabbed her left hand. Her stomach clenched, possibly a delayed reaction to her throwing up.

"You're just trying to stay out of the bookstore," Huey argued.

"Are you accusing me of having an ulterior motive?" Louie retorted, feigning outrage. "You know I'm always looking out for everyone else. I'm never selfish!"

"Ha, right," Huey said.

Webby pulled her hand away from Dewey so she could touch the cell phone she'd taken from Uncle Scrooge. Running her fingers over the screen was therapeutic, like she could somehow touch her grandmother through the phone. Somewhere, in the past, her grandmother was holding the phone too. Webby's heart twisted and she wanted nothing more than to go home and sequester herself in her room. That was so wrong, antithetical to who she was, that she recognized it and it sent a chill through her. Since when did she shy away from adventure and leaving the mansion?

"Hey, pink," Lena said quietly. "You're spending too much time in your head again."

"What are you thinking about?" Dewey asked. His brothers had stopped arguing, though Huey had a smug air that told Webby he'd won. Louie was fiddling with his cell phone again and pretending he didn't care. Or maybe he really didn't.

"Huh? Oh," Webby said. "How come you guys didn't want to spend time with your mom?"

"If we spend any more time with her, we're gonna be imprinting on her," Louie muttered. There was something more and she was tempted to pry. Della Duck was a legend. Louie had told her that had turned him off in the past, but she'd thought he'd come around.

"What's really going on?" she asked.

"You can't change the subject like that," Huey protested.

"I don't really want to think about what's going on with me," she countered. "What's going on with your mom?"

As if on cue, her grandmother's phone vibrated and Webby took it out of her pocket. It was her mother again. A lump formed in her throat and she pushed her phone back into her pocket. She didn't want to deal with that on top of everything. She felt like she was being crushed beneath the weight of everything. (And why hadn't the boys needed therapy after seeing her kill someone? Or was it just because she'd been the one to stab him? The way she'd had to force the knife through the thick bone...the feel of it catching in his heart…)

"They said they wanted to talk about something," Dewey said, shrugging. "They told us to be back by four, though."

Webby nodded, knowing there was more to it, but they probably didn't know what. She stared at the phone again, which hadn't stopped vibrating. Her mother had left a voice message. Who did she think she was talking to? She knew Mrs. Beakley was gone. Perhaps she thought she was talking to Scrooge because she hadn't known Webby had stolen the phone back.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Dewey asked.

Should she? She didn't know. She flipped open the phone and saw her mother's face, as well as her grandmother's wallpaper. It was Webby. Webby's heart wrenched and she shut the phone again. No, she couldn't deal with this right now.

"She can wait," Webby decided, her stomach in knots.

"Maybe we should've asked Launchpad to drive us around," Huey said, frowning. "I thought the bookstore was in that direction, but now I'm lost."

"See? I'm not the only one who gets lost," Louie said.

"Captain Lost, Captain Lost!" Dewey chanted and Louie glowered at him.

"It's a couple blocks down to the right," Lena said and they stared at her. "What? You have a lot of time to kill when you don't go to school and you're trying to hide from adults who'd call you truant."

"You sure you're going to be okay?" Dewey asked and Webby nodded. She wasn't, but she was sick of people asking about it. There didn't seem to be a point.

"Wonder what was so important the adults didn't care that we went out…" Huey mused.

* * *

The security system nearly hadn't let her through. For a few poisonous seconds, Scrooge contemplated not permitting her access, regardless. He didn't want her in the house. Seeing her reminded him of his failure, reminded him of how his pride had gotten Mrs. Beakley killed, and that had set into motion the whole chain of events that had affected poor Webbigail so. Della had been on the fence about allowing Wren in too, though her reasons weren't as personal as Scrooge's. The house felt too sacred and safe for strangers.

He would have handed off funeral arrangements to Mrs. Beakley...and now he had no one to ask. He couldn't ask Della-she'd only just returned from the moon. Donald didn't know his former housekeeper that well and it fell to Scrooge. He'd been about to start planning it or at least finding someone to plan it for him when the gate security went off.

It didn't help that the foyer and front entrance bore signs of a magical battle. With Wren there, the signs seemed painfully obvious, like they hadn't recovered from the attack. He added repairmen to the list of things he needed to get done.

Wren claimed she wanted to spend time with her daughter; he almost regretted letting the kids out of the mansion. Then again, after Magica's multiple attacks on the manor, it wasn't as safe as he could make it. That was next after Beakley's funeral arrangements. Like Webby, he found himself considering Wren a complication he didn't need.

All four adults were seated around the dining room table and he felt the kids' absence keenly. He wasn't normally overprotective-that had fallen to Mrs. Beakley. But he worried about them, especially considering Webby's unstable state. And how was he supposed tell her mother about that when she'd been absent for her entire life? What right did she have to Webby's problems?

The atmosphere was tense; to Della and Donald, Wren might as well have been a stranger. They hadn't been particularly close as children. To Scrooge, Wren was a stranger. She favored her father, whoever that had been, but Scrooge could see the resemblance Webby bore to her.

"The house feels different…" Wren commented, looking wrongfooted. She was sitting opposite the twins.

"Aye, we haven't repaired since Magica's attack," Scrooge admitted. He cast her a shrewd gaze. "The kids won't be back for a few hours."

"How is she?" Wren burst out, prompting Scrooge to raise his eyebrows. "Webby, I mean. Is she all right? How is she taking this? I shouldn't have left, I know. I should have stayed when she hatched...I thought my mother had everything under control. And then...and then this happened."

Scrooge was still watching her. He wasn't sure how much he believed her. He found her timing suspect. True, she'd mentioned that she'd only noticed because of Magica's attack, but...maybe he was being suspicious in general. Maybe he ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. However, he hadn't become a billionaire by giving people the benefit of the doubt in business.

Donald was also giving Wren a shrewd look. Scrooge wasn't sure he'd forgiven Della for abandoning the boys, even if she was trying to make up for it now. Forgiving Wren was out of the question. Somewhere along the line, Donald had begun to see Webby as an unofficial niece, the "fourth nephew". Scrooge thought Donald had a greater claim to her than Wren did at this point.

How much could they tell her? How much could she handle?

"Webbigail's lived a sheltered life inside of the mansion," Scrooge began, cautious. "It was only recently that she was permitted access to the outside world."

Wren stared. "She's been cooped up inside the mansion her whole life? That can't be healthy."

"Mrs. Beakley seemed to think it was safer for her to remain here," Scrooge said. He didn't share the reasons why. Wren ought to know why anyway. If she didn't, then she and Beakley had spoken less than he'd thought.

"Her grandmother's death must've come as quite a shock to her, then," Wren said. Donald was glowering at her, but he didn't speak. Presumably he didn't want to accuse her of being an absentee parent when Della qualified too. Della, however, was not one to miss cues. She frowned at her brother.

"Yes," Scrooge said. He didn't elaborate. Donald scowled, doubtlessly thinking of the chain of events that had transpired after Betina's death.

"What aren't you telling me?" Wren asked, studying each of them in turn. "You're holding something back. Should I ask Webbigail when she returns?"

Scrooge grimaced. "No. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then what?" Wren demanded.

"Webby doesn't know how to navigate the streets by herself," Scrooge said, trying to figure out how to put this delicately. "She ran out one night and encountered a band of ruffians."

"She protected herself, didn't she?" Wren asked, frowning.

"They had guns on her," Scrooge replied. "They got away with it."

"With what?" she said. "What is so bad that...oh god. No. Not Webby, no."

"I'm afraid so. Magica engineered revenge against Webbigail for defeating her the last time, Webbigail, the boys, and her niece Lena. Webby killed their leader...and she's been...it's a lot for a child to handle."

Wren said absolutely still, hands clasped in front of her. She stared, aghast, at Scrooge.

"And you let her out of the mansion?" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Where did they go? Why aren't you more concerned?"

"She ran out at night, for one thing," Scrooge said. "For another, she was alone. For a third thing, the Bloodhound Gang has been apprehended, as have many, many other criminals we found lurking in the process of clearing out Duckburg."

Wren collapsed back into her seat. Donald and Della were gawking at Scrooge; other than those he considered on a "need to know" basis, he hadn't filled them in on Webby's situation. Della looked uneasy and Donald upset, leaning towards angry. Not that he blamed him. Scrooge had residual rage from Webby's attack.

"Webby…" Wren breathed. "I should've been there...if I'd come right after I'd heard Magica attacked-"

"You're still a stranger to Webbigail," Scrooge pointed out, though not unkindly. "She wouldn't have confided in you. And this wasn't your fault. It was the damned Bloodhound Gang and Magica de Spell."

Wren gnawed her lower beak and stared at the table for a few seconds. "I want to be in my daughter's life from now on."

"That's a big commitment," Scrooge said. He almost added that "you weren't up for it earlier", but Webbigail needed a parental figure in her life.

"We'll see," he added and she frowned.

"I won't leave this time," Wren said. "I promise."

Della and Donald exchanged looks, likely thinking of her taking the  _Spear of Selene._

"We'll see," was all Scrooge said in response. He wasn't holding his breath.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of vignettes with Webby's nightmares.

It was cold and Webby's teeth chattered. She hugged herself; the theatre was unnaturally dark and she yelped when she stepped onto the trapdoor leading to Lena's room. Scoffing at her nervousness, she eased herself down the ladder and curled up in Lena's bed. Surrounded by Lena's scent, she could almost feel better. She could almost forget about her grandmother's death and about her world falling apart around her.

After an indeterminate amount of time, during which Webby thought she might've fallen asleep, she crawled out from underneath the sheets and then returned to the stage. Someone was moving in the shadows and she tensed, assuming a defensive position. Deja vu crashed upon her and she froze, scanning the darkness. She worked on calming her breathing and felt the cold press of a gun muzzle against her temples.

Two Bloodhound Gang members had appeared out of nowhere to stalk their prey and Webby had frozen, dread pooling in her stomach. Stepping out of the shadows too was her grandmother and Webby sagged, relieved to see her grandmother intact and wailing on the leader. The other two glanced from Webby to her grandmother and back as if debating the merits of helping their leader.

"Webby, are you all right?" her grandmother asked and then stared at the two members. "Get your hands off my granddaughter this instant!"

One of the members aimed at her grandmother, but she'd moved, blocking the shot. With only one gun trained on her, Webby might be able to disarm her opponent, assuming that the other dog didn't bring his gun to bear on her in retaliation. She remembered her grandmother's training and reached for the remaining gunman. He aimed and the bullet passed through Webby only to lodge itself in her grandmother's chest, right where Magica's spell had gone.

"No...not again…" she whispered.

The leader, unscathed despite going toe to toe with Betina Beakley, pinned Webby to the floorboards. He wasted no time in taking what he considered his "prize" and Webby choked, pressed against the floor by the floor by his bulk with the cold guns against her temples again. He was moving in and out, aggressive and smiling, damn him.

He was too big for her and it hurt; she could feel him tearing at her and tears streaked her cheeks.

"Webbigail, wake up!" Scrooge commanded and she looked around, not seeing him, only hearing him.

"Webby, come on, please…" Louie pleaded. As with Scrooge, she didn't see him either. Wrenching an arm free, she grabbed the leader's knife at his waist. It was serrated and looked like it'd deliver a nasty cut. As he finished with a groan and his disgusting wet warmth filled her, she plunged the knife into his chest.

This time, it stuck and he grinned at her. His teeth were coated in blood.

"Not getting rid of me that easily," he sneered. The others laughed and took their turns too. Webby screamed and screamed, but no one could hear her.

"Webby!" this voice was unfamiliar and she frowned, unable to place it. Hands were shaking her and she curled into a ball. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. The female voice imploring her to wake bore some similarity to one she'd heard before. That told her nothing.

"Why won't she wake up?" Dewey asked urgently.

"We might have to resort to extreme measures," Scrooge said and then, despite the hot blood soaking Webby's feathers, despite the feeling of the pedophiles inside of her, cold water splashed her in the face. Gasping and sputtering, she blinked and came back to herself in her bed. She shuddered uncontrollably.

"Webby, are you okay?" Dewey asked.

Webby shook her head weakly. Lena had been the one with the water bucket.

"It's been like this for over a month," Scrooge informed Wren. That was who that strange voice had been. How peculiar. Webby blinked, hugging her knees. Her feathers were all damp, as well as her hair.

"You need to talk about it, lass," Scrooge said.

Again, she shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to fall back into a dreamless sleep. The horror of seeing her grandmother die again, of the entire gang joining in this time and the leader continuing despite being stabbed in the heart, all of it crashed on her head. She pressed her face into the pillow to conceal her tears.

"Can I try talking to her?" Wren asked.

"Be my guest," Scrooge said and then added, "I doubt you'll get any more out of her than we have."

The others left, although Lena hesitated and had to be tugged along. Webby lifted her head to watch them go and plopped back onto her stomach with her face buried in the pillow as soon as the door closed.

"I know...I know you barely know me," Wren said, touching Webby's back and rubbing it in circles. "But...you can talk to me. About anything. I'm here for you."

Heh. She barely spoke to the boys and Lena. What on earth made her mother think she'd confide in her? She trembled, hugging her pillow.

"I remember my first kill," Wren said and, despite herself, Webby was curious enough to lift her head. "I threw up and my commander was not happy."

"You killed someone?" she asked.

"A FOWL agent," Wren said and then smiled ruefully. "By mistake, if you can believe it."

"I can believe it," Webby said quietly.

"It's stressful, your first kill," Wren said. "And...as for the rest...I know what you went through.'

The older duck lowered her head. "That's why I said you can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Maybe. Webby rolled over to contemplate her mother.

"That's better," Wren said and smoothed back Webby's hair. "It might take a long while for you to trust me, but I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

* * *

Lena woke up to hear Webby sobbing in the night. That had never happened before the Bloodhound Gang had gotten its hands on her, though it had become a depressingly commonplace occurrence since then. She hugged Webby to her; she'd decided earlier that she ought to sleep with her to calm her down. Stroking her girlfriend's hair, she tried not to think about how much she sucked at comforting people. She had zero experience and Webby was the first person she'd ever wanted to comfort.

"Sssh…" she whispered. "Sssh...I'm here."

For whatever good that did.

Webby turned her tear-streaked face toward Lena and Lena wasn't sure whether she was awake or not. She kissed her on the beak and was surprised when Webby applied pressure, reciprocating. She wrapped her arms around her. The tears were still coming and Lena could taste them on her tongue. Webby was shaking with suppressed sobs, but she was kissing Lena anyway.

Lena remembered with horrible clarity her own nightmare and gasped back a sob.

"We're a mess," Lena said, reluctantly pulling apart.

"I love you," Webby murmured, still half asleep. "You'd never leave me, right, Lena? Not again?"

"No," she promised. "I won't leave you."

"I love you so much…" Webby murmured and fell asleep again. Lena smiled weakly, but it faded quickly. She couldn't be mollified so quickly. However, she didn't want to roam the manor at night, especially since Webby was holding onto her so tightly. If she woke and found her gone, she'd be upset.

Lena closed her eyes and tried to sleep again. As soothing as it was to be in Webby's arms, sleep was a long way in coming. Magica's spectre haunted her nightmares. And the Bloodhound Gang haunted Webby's. What a pair they were.

"I love you too," Lena whispered, aware Webby couldn't hear her.

She snuggled closer to her and hoped for sleep that never came.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby meets Wren (who, again, is actually alive in this fic). Note that this was the original ending for the fic until I decided that I wanted to pursue it further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry--this isn't the end. I just didn't want to skip this post--it didn't feel right.
> 
> I am, however, going to end this fic here and start the next one on Saturday. The direct sequel is called The Open Door, so look out for it. :P

Webby returned to the manor with a large bag full of books in one hand, Lena’s hand in hers in her right. Lena had grown protective over her, which was cute; as if the older girl could really protect her against the horrors Webby possessed in her mind. She appreciated the thought. Before they reached the gate, she turned and nuzzled Lena’s beak with her own. Louie huffed behind them, but more because they were blocking the entrance than because he was that annoyed.

 

  
Smiling at her girlfriend (girlfriend!), Webby rang the buzzer and they all slipped inside. They found the adults all seated around the dining room table, including an additional woman Webby didn’t recognize. Her picture matched the one on Mrs. Beakley’s phone. That must be her mother. Webby stopped dead in the doorway and the boys looked over and around her. Lena’s hand on hers was tight now, constricting blood flow.

 

  
“Webbigail?” Wren said, jumping out of her seat and dashing to her. Webby tensed and Wren halted, frowning at her daughter.

 

  
“I’m sorry, Webby,” Scrooge said. “This wasn’t my idea.”

 

  
Judging by the looks the others wore, it wasn’t theirs either. Donald, in particular, was scrutinizing Wren. Webby found herself looking for her grandmother and then it dawned on her again, painfully, that her grandmother would never sit at that table again. Or stand there, dictating house rules. She dropped her gaze.

 

  
“So, what’s she doing here?” Louie asked.

 

  
“She insists that she wants to be in her daughter’s life,” Scrooge said in a tone that indicated he doubted it. He scoffed.

 

  
“Why now?” Huey asked.

 

  
“I heard about Magica’s attack on the manor,” Wren answered. Webby moved aside so that the others could enter, though Lena’s hand on hers was tight. Wren could hardly fail to notice the older girl positioning herself defensively in front of her daughter.

 

  
As everyone was staring at her, Wren cleared her throat and continued.

 

  
“I decided that Webby needed me,” she said and then flushed. “I know I should’ve been from the beginning, but I was afraid.”

 

 

“Of what?” Dewey asked. Della’s gaze hardened and Webby wondered whether that same thought had run through Della’s mind prior to stealing the Spear of Selene.

 

  
“Her father,” Wren said and hugged herself. All eyes went to Webby, whose gaze flitted between her mother and then Lena. Lena was cutting off circulation in her hand, but she didn’t want to ask her to release her. She was afraid if she did, she’d come undone.

 

  
“Who is my father?” Webby asked quietly and realized she was being impertinent. She didn’t know how to cushion the blow, though, or ask it another way, now that her mother had broached the subject.

 

  
“I...I don’t really want to go into that right now,” Wren said, shooting Scrooge a sidelong glance Webby couldn’t interpret. Webby was again aware of how empty the table seemed without her grandmother.

 

  
“But he was intimidating?” Huey asked.

 

  
“He was a member of FOWL,” Scrooge said and Wren shot him a venomous look. “What? He was. Beakley told me about him before she passed, in case the situation ever arose where he might make a claim on Webbigail.”

 

  
“Thankfully,” Wren said, still glaring, “Steelbeak has no idea you exist.”

 

  
“Steelbeak?” Webby said. “I don’t remember Agent 22 going up against him…”

 

  
“She didn’t,” Wren answered, her expression pained. “I did.”

 

  
Webby’s stomach knotted. There was more to this than she was saying, but perhaps this wasn’t the best forum for it right now. Lena’s hand was tight on hers, almost enough to hurt. Webby knew Lena considered her precious and valued what was left of her innocence, which prompted her to want to protect her.

 

  
“I’m sorry,” Wren said, looking at Webby. “I’m sorry I left you. I thought my mother would do a better job raising you than I ever could. I’m horrible with kids. But...I’m your only family. Your only family worth a damn, anyway. And I thought maybe you and I could, you know...be a family together.”

 

  
Scrooge folded his arms across his chest. Nearby, Donald was mirroring him.

 

  
“I guess we can try it…” Webby said, uncertain. She looked back at Lena and then the boys. “I mean, if we’re already going to have one reunion, why not another?”

 

  
“Good,” Wren said and then smiled weakly. “I sounded like my mother just then. I hope that won’t be too disconcerting to you, Webby. I’ll do my best.”

 

  
Scrooge eyed Wren and then looked back at Della, who looked guiltily back at him.

 

  
“We’ll see how things go, shall we?” he said. “Now that Magica de Spell is out of the picture, as well as the Bloodhound Gang, and everyone’s back here, well...we might be able to return to some semblance of normal.”

 

  
“Nothing is ever normal with this family,” Louie groused.

 

  
Scrooge smiled gently at him. “As normal we get, lad.”

 

  
“At least your normal family is better than mine,” Lena whispered to Webby. “My normal family is ‘psychotic’ on default mode.”

 

  
“Don’t worry,” Webby reassured her. “You’ll enjoy being a McDuck.”

 

  
Lena glanced over at Scrooge. “Maybe.”

 

  
She hugged Webby to her. “I’ll enjoy being your girlfriend more. But we can work on the McDuck family dynamic stuff. I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

 

  
“And neither am I,” she confirmed, though she didn’t know where she’d go if she could. She hugged Lena back.

 

  
Whatever they had to face, they would face it together. As a family. And friends. And girlfriend. Webby smiled, one of the few genuine smiles she’d had in the last few months, and for the first time in a while, had hope for the future.


End file.
